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McGUFFEY’S  ECLECTIC  READERS 

Have  been  entirely  remodeled.  Such  lessons  as  discriminating 
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A careful  attention  to  progression,  by  which  the  learner  is  led 
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are  still  continued  in  publication. 


Entered  according  to  act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  Eighteen  Hundred  and 
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Many  of  the  Lessons  in  this  volume  are  copyright  property,  and 
their  use  by  others  not  permitted. 


Stereotyped  by  C.  F.  O’ Driscoll  & Co. 


PREFACE. 


Al’Ui 

--  X 


This,  the  fifth  in  the  series  of  the  remodeled  Eclectic  Eeaders, 
differs  from  the  preceding  volumes,  chiefly,  in  its  grade.  The  les- 
sons are  more  difficult,  the  list  of  errors  in  articulation  and  pro- 
nunciation are  more  extensive,  and  the  questions,  more  copious 
and  varied. 

A considerable  amount  of  new  matter,  derived  from  the  best 
sources  of  English  literature,  has  been  added. 

The  introductory  article  on  Reading  is  commended  to  the  notice 
of  the  teacher,  as  containing  important  instruction  upon  that  subject, 
with  copious  illustrations  and  exercises.  Miscellaneous  exercises 
in  articulation  are  also  interspersed  between  the  lessons. 

The  Spelling  and  Defining  Exercises,  placed  at  the  head  of  the 
lessons,  are  copious,  and  at  the  same  time,  select.  In  addition  to 
these,  words  are  also  marked  in  the  lessons  to  be  spelled  and  de- 
fined by  the  pupil. 

The  grammatical  questions  are  particularly  commended  to  the 
attention  of  the  teacher,  as  a valuable  feature.  Few  are  aware, 
until  a trial,  how  closely  reading  and  grammatical  analysis  may  be 
profitably  united. 

The  Reading  Lessons  have  been  very  carefully  selected.  It  has 
been  the  great  object^of  the  compiler  to  present  the  best  specimens 
of  style,  to  insure  interest  in  the  subjects,  to  impart  valuable  in- 
formatipn,  and,  especially,  to  exert  a decided  and  healthy  moral 
and  religious  influence. 

As  very  little  material  is  found  in  a form  appropriate  to  practice 
as  reading  lessons,  the  matter  has  here  been  extensively  remodeled 
and  rearranged,  so  as  to  adapt  it  to  its  place  in  this  volume.  On 
this  account,  the  lessons  are  credited  in  the  contents  as  being 
from  the  authors  named. 


CONTENTS 


Directions  for  Keadino. 


9 to  36 


LESSONS  IN  PROSE. 


I, ESSON.  FACE. 

1.  The  Forest  Trees. — Fable 37 

3.  The  Poor  Widow 40 

5.  The  Orphan 46 

7.  Little  Victories From  Martineau.  . 63 

9.  An  End  of  All  Perfection From  Sigourney.  . 59 

II.  Do  Not  Meddle 65 

12.  The  Chicken  Cock  and  the  Fox 57 

14.  The  Righteous  Never  Forsaken 72 

15.  Select  Paragraphs , 75 

17.  The  Generous  Russian  Peasant 80 

18.  Touch  Not — Taste  Not — Handle  Not  . . From  Dr.  Beecher.  53 

20.  Man  and  the  Inferior  Animals 88 

21.  Value  of  Time  and  Knowledge 91 

23.  Scene  at  the  Sandwich  Islands 96 

24.  The  Maniac 101 

26.  Respect  for  the  Sabbath  Rewarded 105 

27.  The  Goodness  of  God The  Bible.  . . . 108 

29.  Contrasted  Soliloquies From  Jane  Taylor.  112 

31.  The  Just  Judge 118 

32.  Control  Your  Temper From  Todd. . . . 123 

34.  Death  of  Absalom The  Bible.  . . . 127 

36.  A Morning  Ramble  . From  Paulding.  . 134 

38.  The  Alhambra  by  Moonlight  ....  From  Irving.  . . 141 

40.  On  Elocution  and  Reading 145 

41.  No  Excellence  without  Labor  ....  From  Wirt.  . . 148 

42.  Necessity  of  Education From  Dr.  Beecher.  750 

44.  The  Intemperate  Husband From  Sigourney.  . 155 

45,  The  Intemperate  Husband. — Continued 158 


CONTENTS 


7 


LKSSON. 


PAO®, 


47.  Ill-Nature  Rewarded 

49.  The  Wife From  Irving.  . 

61.  Decisive  Integrity From  Wirt.  . . 

53.  The  Steamboat  Trial From  Abbot.  , . 

55.  Lucy  Forrester 

57.  The  Venomous  Worm 

68.  The  Town  Pump From.  Hawthorne. 

60.  Effects  of  Gambling From  Flint.  . . 

62.  Criminality  of  Dueling  . . .v.  . . From  Nott.  . . . 

63.  Tit  for  Tat From  Edgeworth.  . 


64.  Conflagration  of  an  Amphitheater 

66.  Charles  II.  and  ¥7illiam  Penn  . 

67.  Horrors  of  War 


69.  Love  of  Applause From  Hawes. 

71.  A. Picture  of  Human  Life Froin  Johnson. 

73.  Puritan  Fathers 

74.  American  Orator 

77.  Europe  and  America From  Webster 

80.  The  Scriptures  and  the  Savior  ....  From  Rosseau 

81.  The  Blind  Preacher From  Wirt. 

83.  The  Bible From  Grimke. 

84.  On  Letter  Writing 

87.  Rebellion  in  State  Prison 


88.  Religion,  the  Only  Basis  of  Society 

90.  The  Boblink From  Irving.  . . 

92.  The  Wild  liorse From  Irving.  . , 

94.  Matilda From  GDldsmith.  . 

95.  Speech  of  Logan From  Jefferson. 

97.  Martyn  and  Byron From  Miss  Beecher. 


162 

169 

174 

178 

184 

192 

194 

204 

2^1 

214 

217 

225 

228 

234 

240 

249 

253 

271 

280 

283 

288 

290 

300 

306 

310 

315 

322 

324 

329 


LESSONS  IN  POETRY. 


UCSSON.  PACK. 

2.  The  Oak  Tree 88 

4.  Tired  of  Play 45 

6.  The  Grandfather 51 

8.  My  Mother 58 

10.  The  Spider  and  the  Fly 63 

1 3,  The  Barber 71 


8 


CONTENTS 


t^SON.  PAGR. 

16.  The  Dying  Boy 78 

19.  The  Festal  Board 80 

22..  Consolation  of  Religion From  PercivaL,  . 95 

25  He  never  smiled  again 103 

28  Nature  and  Revelation The  Bible.  . . . 110 

80  The  Pebble  and  the  Acorn From  Miss  Gould.  116 

83.  The  Child’s  Inquiry  126 

35,  Absalom From  Willis.  . . 131 

87.  April  Day 139 

89.  The  Death  of  the  Flowers From  Bryant.  . . 143 

43.  True  Wisdom The  Bible.  . . . 153 

46.  The  Better  Land ^ . . From  Ilemans.  , . 161 

48.  It  snows From  3Irs,  Hale.  . 167 

50.  Ginevra From  Rogers.  . . 171 

62.  Procrastination From  Young.  . . 176 

64.  A Dirge  . 182 

66.  A Hebrew  Tale From  Sigourney.  . 189 

59.  Shylock From  Shakspeare.  198 

61.  The  Miser From  Pollok.  . . 209 

65.  Prince  Arthur . From  Shakspeare,  220 

68.  Battle  of  Waterloo From  Byron.  . . 231 

70.  Midnight  Musings From  Young.  . . 237 

72.  God’s  First  Temples From  Bryant.  . 244 

75.  William  Tell 257 

76.  William  Tell. — Continued 266 

78.  Make  Way  for  Liberty From  Montgomery.  275 

79.  The  American  Eagle From  Neal.  . . . 278 

82.  The  Gods  of  the  Heathen The  Bible.  . . . 286 

85.  Lochiel’s  Warning From  Campbell.  ..  295 

86.  Apostrophe  to  the  Ocean From  Byron.  . . 298 

89.  The  Three  Sons 308 

91.  Winged  Worshipers 314 

93.  Soldier  on  the  Rhine From  Mrs.  Norton.  320 

96.  Parrhasius  From  Willis.  . . 326 

98.  Byron From  Pollok.  . . 832 

99.  Immortality  of  the  Soul From  Addison.  . 334 

100  Death  and  Life  ...  * 830 


DIEECTIONS  FOE  EEADING. 


I.  PRELIMINARY  REMARKS. 

The  great  object  to  be  accomplished  in  reading  as  a 
rhetorical  exercise  is,  to  convey  to  the  hearer,  fully  and 
clearly,  the  ideas  and  feelings  of  the  writer. 

In  order  to  do  this,  it  is  necessary  that  the  feelings  of  the 
author  whose  language  is  read,  should  be  infused  into  the 
breast  of  the  reader,  and  then  alone  can  they  be  properly  and 
fully  expressed. 

In  accordance  with  this  view,  a preliminary  rule  of  im- 
portance is  the  following. 

Rule  I. — Before  attempting  to  read  a lesson,  the 
learner  should  make  himself  fully  acquainted  with  the 
subject  as  treated  of  in  that  lesson,  and  endeavor  to  make 
his  own,  the  feelings  and  sentiments  of  the  writer. 

Remark. — To  accomplish  the  purpose  indicated  in  the  rule, 
every  lesson  should  be  well  studied  beforehand,  and  no  scholar 
should  be  permitted  to  attempt  to  read  any  thing,  which  he 
can  not  easily  understand.  When  he  has  thus  identified  him- 
self with  the  author,  he  has  the  substance  of  all  rules  in  his 
own  breast.  It  is  by  going  to  nature  that  we  find  rules.  The 
child  or  the  savage  orator,  never  mistakes  in  inflection,  or 
emphasis,  or  modulation.  The  best  speakers  and  readers  are 
those  who  follow  the  impulse  of  nature  as  felt  in  their  own 
hearts,  or  most  closely  imitate  it  as  observed  in  others. 

Questions. — What  is  the  chief  design  of  readipg  ? In  order  to  do 
this,  what  is  first  necessary?  Repeat  the  ri^.  For  the  purpose  of 
being  able  to  observe  this,  what  must  be  done?  From  whence  are  all 
rules  derived? 


9 


10 


ARTICULATION. 


II.  ARTICULATION. 

The  subject  first  in  order  and  in  importance,  requiring 
attention,  is  articulation.  TLe  object  to  be  accomplished, 
under  this  head,  may  be  expressed  by  the  following  general 

Direction. — Give  to  each  letter  (except  silent  letters), 
to  each  syllable,  and  to  each  word  its  full,  distinct,  and 
appropriate  utterance. 

For  the  purpose  of  avoiding  the  more  common  errors  under 
this  head,  observe  the  following  Rules. 

Rule  II. — Avoid  the  omission  of  unaccented  vowels. 


EXAMPLES. 


INCORRECT. 

CORRECT. 

INCORRECT. 

CORRECT. 

SepTate 

for 

sep-(X-rate. 

EvMent  for 

ev-Ldent. 

met-ricT 

>> 

met-ric-al. 

memh-y  „ 

mem-o-ry. 

^pear 

>5 

ap-pear. 

^pin-ion  ,, 

o-pin-ion. 

com-pTeut 

>> 

com-pe-tent. 

pr’pose  ,, 

pro-pose. 

precede 

pre-cede. 

grandar  ,, 

gran-i^-lar. 

^special 

es-pec-ial. 

par-tic-1  ar  „ 

par-tic-w-lar. 

Rule  III. — Avoid  sounding  incorrectly  the  unaccented 
vowels. 


EXAMPLES. 


INCORRECT.  CORRECT. 

Sep-er-ate  for  sep-a-rate. 
met>ric-?/l  ,,  met-ric- aZ. 
wp-pear  ap-pear. 

coni-per-tent  ,,  com-pe-tent. 
dwm-mand  „ de-mand. 
ob-stwr-nate  „ ob-sti-nate. 


INCORRECT.  CORRECT. 

Mem-er-ry  for  mem-o-ry. 

wp-pin-ion  ,,  o-pin-ion. 

prwp-ose  „ pro-pose, 

gran-ny-lar  ,,  gran-u-lar. 

par-tic-e-lar  „ par-tic-w-lar. 
ev-or-dent  ,,  ev-i-dent. 


Remark. — In  correcting  errors  of  this  kind  in  words  of 
more  than  one  syllable,  it  is  very  important  to  avoid  a fault 
which  is  the  natural  consequence  of  an  effort  to  articulate  cor- 
rectly. Thus,  in  endeavoring  to  sound  correctly  the  a in 
met' -ric-aly  the  pupil  is  very  apt  to  say  met-ric-al! y accenting 


Questions. — What  subject  is  first  in  importance  to  the  reader? 
Repeat  the  general  direction.  Repeat  Rule  II.  Give  some  examples 
in  which  the  vowel  is  left  out.  Repeat  Rule  III.  Give  some  examples 
in  which  the  unaccented  vowel  is  improperly  sounded. 


ARTICULATION. 


11 


the  last  syllable  instead  of  the  first.  In  correcting  the  sound 
of  the  first  o in  pro-pose , he  will  perhaps  pronounce  it 
pro'-pose.  This  change  of  the  accent,  and  all  undue  stress 
upon  the  unaccented  syllable  should  be  carefully  avoided. 

Rule  IV. — Utter  distinctly  the  terminating  consonant. 


EXAMPLES. 


INCORRECT. 

CORRECT. 

INCORRECT. 

CORRECT. 

An'  for  and. 

Mos' 

for  mos5'^^e. 

ban’ 

band. 

near-es' 

,,  near-es7. 

moun'  „ 

mound. 

wep' 

,,  wep7. 

mor-nin'  ,, 

morn-in^. 

ob-jec' 

„ ob-jec7. 

dess'  „ 

desT:. 

sub-jec' 

„ sub-jec7. 

Remark  1.- 

—This  omission 

is  still  more 

likely  to  < 

occur 


when  several  consonants  come  together. 


EXAMPLES. 


INCOKEECT.  CORRECT. 

Thrus’  for  thrus^5. 

beace  „ beas^5. 

thinks'  ,,  thinkvS^. 

weps'  „ wep^s^. 


INCORRECT.  CORRECT. 

. Harms'  for  harm's^, 

wrongs'  ,,  wrong'st. 

twinkles'  ,,  twinkPdsif. 

black'ns  „ black'nV/s^, 


Remark  2. — In  all  cases  of  this  kind,  these  sounds  are 
omitted,  in  the  first  instance,  merely  because  they  are  difficult, 
and  require  care  and  attention  for  their  utterance,  although, 
after  a while  it  becomes  a habit.  The  only  remedy  is  to  de- 
vote that  care  and  attention  which  ma}^  be  necessary.  There 
is  no  other  difiiculty,  unless  there  should  be  a defect  in  the 
organs  of  speech,  which  does  not  often  happen. 

Rule  V. — Avoid  blending  syllables  which  belong  to 
different  words. 

EXAMPLES. 

INCORRECT.  CORRECT. 

He  ga-zdupon.  He  gazed  upon. 

Here  res  i^^is  5ed.  Here  rests  7iis  7iead. 


Questions. — In  correcting  these  errors,  what  fault  is  it  necessary  to 
guard  against?  What  is  Rule  IV?  Give  examples.  When  is  the 
omission  still  more  likely  to  take  place?  Give  examples.  What  is 
the  cause  of  this  defect?  What  is  the  remedy?  Is  there  often  any 
defect  in  the  organs  of  speech  ? What  is  Rule  V ? Illustrate  it  by 
an  example. 


12 


ARTICULATION. 


INCORRECT. 


CORRECT 


WhaWis  5is  5?iame? 
For  ran7^in5/antush. 
Ther  ris  5a  calm. 


Wha^  i5  7^is  name  ? 
For  an  instant  Aush 
The?'e  i5  a calm. 


For  tho  5^7ia  7z5eep. 
God  5glorou  5image. 


For  tliosfi  n?eep. 
God'5  ^loriou5  image. 


EXERCISES  IN  ARTICULATION. 

This  Exercise  and  similar  ones  will  afford  valuable  aid  in 
training  the  organs  to  a distinct  articulation. 

Every  vice  figh^5  again^^  natu?'e. 

Folly  is  never  plea5C(7  Avith  7^5elf. 

Pride,  not  nature,  crares  muc7i. 

The  li^^Ze  tviUlQr  tittQVQd  at  the  tempest. 

Titu.?  ^a/t;e5  the  pei^uZent  ou^-ca5/5. 

The  covetous  p^rtiiQr  is  deei^i^ute  of  fortune 
No  one  of  you  knoAA"5  w7iere  the  sIioq  pinc7^e5. 

What  can  not  be  curef7  mu5^  be  endnrQd. 

You  can  not  c?dcli  old  birc75  with  c7iaff. 

Never  5j9ort  Avi77i  the  opinio?i5  of  otliors. 

Tho  Yi^inmgs  fi2ishod,  ike  thunders  roared. 

Pis  hayid  in  mine  was  fondly  claspod. 

They  cuZ/ivated  shrubs  tind  pZants. 

He  selecZed  his  texZ5  wiZ7^  great  care. 

His  lip5  grovf  restless^  and  hi.?  6*?nile  is  curZe^Z  7ialf  into  scorn. 
'Wisdom’s  Avays  are  Avay.?  of  pleasantness^. 

Oh ! breeze  that  AvafZsZ  me  on  my  way. 

PAou  boa5Z^5Z  of  AvAat  ^Aould  be  thy  sAame..  ^ 

Li/e^s  fiZ/hl  fever  over,  he  rests  well. 

CansZ  thou  fill  his  eZt'in  Avith  bar^e^Z  iro?25? 

Prom  star  to  star  the  living  lighZnin^e^a^A.  ^ 

And  ^Zitteri?i^  cro^Y7ls  of  prostrate  seraj97iim. 

TJiat  momiing^  thou  that  slumberd’st  not  before. 

Habitual  oyiIs  chajige  not  on  a sud6Ze7i. 

Thou  AvafZ^cZ^st  the  rickety  skiffs  over  the  cliffs. 

Thou  reef^PsZ  the  haggled  shi^wreeked  sails. 

The  hone^Z  ^AepherPi*  catar?di. 

The  hei7’e55  in  her  di^AabiZZe  is  Aumorou5. 

The  Arave  cAevalier  behare^  like  a conservative.  ^ 

The  luscious  notion  of  cAampagne  and  precious  su^ar. 

Question. — What  kind  of  exercises  are  adapted  for  improvement 
in  articulation? 


INFLEC  TIONS. 


13 


Hemark  1. — Very  fall  exercises  and  directions  for 
practice  in  articulation,  may  be  found  in  the  New  Eclectic 
Third  and  Fourth  Eeadors  of  this  series,  to  which  it  is  sup- 
posed the  reader  has  already  paid  some  attention.  In  every 
reading  lesson,  this  subject  should  receive  its  appropriate 
•attention.  Between  the  lessons  in  this  book,  also,  are  ex- 
amples^ constituting  a series  of  exercises  upon  difficult  combi- 
nations and  upon  vowel  sounds,  which,  it  is  believed,  will  be 
found  of  great  utility,  and  to  which  the  learner  is  directed  for 
practice.  * 

Hemark  2. — -The  teacher  will  recollect  that,  in  correcting 
a fault,  there  is  always  danger  of  erring  in  the  opposite  ex- 
treme. Now,  properly  speaking,  there  is.no  danger  of  learning 
to  articulate  too  distinctly^  but  there  is  danger  of  contracting  a 
habit  of  drawling^  and  of  pronouncing  unimportant  words  with 
too  much  prominence.  This  should  be  carefully  guarded 
against.  It  is  a childish  fault,  but  is  not  always  confined  to 
children. 


III.  INFLECTIONS. 

Inflections  are  slides  of  the  voice  upward  or  down 
ward.  Of  these  there  are  two : the  rising  inflection  and 
falling  inflection. 

The  rising  inflection  is  that  in  which  the  voice 
slides  upward^  and  is  marked  thus  (^);  as, 

Didyouwalk^?  (Did  you 

The  falling  inflection  is  that  in  which  the  voice 
slides  downward^  and  is  marked  thus  ( ; as, 

I did  not  walk^  . (I  did  not 

Both  inflections  are  exhibited  in  the  following  question ; 

Did  you  walk^  or  ride^  ? ^ or 

Questions. — What  error,  must  be  guarded  against?  What  are  in- 
flections? How  does  the  voice  slide  in  the  rising  inflection?  Howi 
in  the  falling? 


14 


INFLECTIONS. 


In  the  following  examples,  the  first  member  has  the  rising y 
and  the  second  member  the  falling  inflection. 

EXAMPLES* 

Is  he  sick^,  or  is  he  well^  ? 

Is  he  youngs,  or  is  he  old^  ? 

Is  he  rich^,  or  is  he  poor^  ? 

Did  you  say  valor^,  or  value^  ? 

Did  you  say  statute^,  or  statue^  ? 

Did  he  act  properly^,  or  improperly^  ? 

In  the  following  examples,  the  inflections  are  used  in  a con- 
trary order,  the  first  member  terminating  with  the  falling y and 
the  second  with  the  rising  inflection. 

EXAMPLES. 

He  is  welD,  not  sick^. 

He  is  youngs,  not  old^. 
lie  is  rich^,  not  poor^. 

I said  value^,  not  valor 

I said  statue^,  not  statute^. 

lie  acted  properly^,  not  improperly^. 


FALLING  INFLECTIONS, 

Rule  VI.— The  falling  inflection  is  generally  proper, 
wherever  the  sense  is  complete. 

EXAMPLES. 

Truth  is  more  wonderful  than  fiction^. 

Men  generally  die  as  they  live^. 

By  indi^ry  we  obtain  wealth^. 

Questions. — Explain  the  different  inflections  in  the  questions,  com- 
mencing with,  “Is  he  sick^,  oris  he  welD?’’  Explain  them  in  the 
answers  to  those  questions.  What  is  the  first  rule  for  the  use  of  the 
falling  inflection?  Give  the  examples. 

* These  questions  and  similar  ones,  with  their  answers,  should  be 
repeatedly  pronounced  with  their  proper  inflections,  until  the  distinc- 
tion between  the  rising  and  falling  inflection  is  well  understood  and 
easily  made  by  the  learner.  He  will  be  assisted  in  this,  by  emphasiz- 
ing strongly  the  word  which  receives  the  inflection:  thus.  Did  you 
RiDE^  or  did  you  walk'? 


INFLECTIONS. 


15 


Remark. — Parts  of  a sentence  often  make  complete  sense 
in  themselves,  and  in  this  case,  unless  qualified  or  restrained 
by  the  succeeding  clause,  or  unless  the  contrary  is  indicated 
by  some  other  principle,  the  falling  infiection  takes  place, 
according  to  the  rule. 

EXAMPLES. 

Truth  is  wonderful^,  even  more  so  than  fiction^. 

Men  generally  die  as  they  live^,  and  by  their  actions  we  must 
judge  of  their  character^. 

By  industry  we  obtain  wealth^,  and  persevering  exertion  will  sel- 
dom be  unrewarded^. 

Exception. — When  a sentence  concludes  with  a negative 
clause,  or  with  a contrast  or  comparison,  (called  also  antithesis), 
the  first  member  of  which  requires  the  falling  inflection,  it 
must  close  with  the  rising  inflection.  (See  Rule  XI,  and 
§2,  Note.) 

EXAMPLES. 

No  one  desires  to  be  thought  a fooP. 

I come  to  bury^  Caesar,  not  to  praise^  him. 

If  we  care  not  for  others^,  we  ought  at  least  to  respect  ourselves^. 

He  lives  in  England^,  not  in  France^. 

Remark. — In  bearing  testimony  to  the  general  character 
of  a man  we  say. 

He  is  too  honorable^  to  be  guilty  of  a vile^  act. 

But  if  he  is  accused  of  some  act  of  baseness,  a contrast  is  at 
once  instituted  between  his  character  and  the  specified  act, 
and  we  change  the  inflections,  and  say, 

■ He  is  too  honor ahle^  to  be  guilty  of  such^  an  act. 

A man  may  say,  in  general  terms, 

I am  too  busy^  for  projects^. 

But  if  he  is  urged  to  embark  in  some  particular  enterprise, 
lie  will  change  the  inflections,  and  say, 

I am  too  for  projects^. 

Questions. — Where,  besides  at  the  close  of  a sentence,  may  the 
sense  be  complete?  What  inflection  must  be  used  in  this  case?  Give 
an  example.  What  is  antithesis?  What  is  the  substance  of  the 
remark  ? Explain  the  examples. 


16 


INFLECTIONS. 


In  such  cases,  as  the  falling  inflection  is  required  in  the 
former  part,  by  the  principle  of  contrast  and  emphasis,  (as  will 
hereafter  be  more  fully  explained),  the  sentence  necessarily 
closes  with  the  rising  inflection. 

Sometimes  also,  emphasis  alone  seems  to  require  the  rising 
inflection  on  the  concluding  word.  See  exception  to  Kule  VII. 


STRONG  EMPHASIS. 

Rule  VII. — Language  which  demands  strong  emphasis 
generally  requires  the  falling  inflection. 

EXAMPLES. 

§1.  Command  or  urgent  en^eaty;  as, 

Begone^, 

Rim^  to  your  houses,  fall^  upon  your  knees, 

Pray^  to  the  Gods  to  intermit  the  plagues. 

Answer^  me,  to  what  I ask  you. 

Oh,  save^  me,  Hubert^,  save^  me!  My  eyes  are  out 
Even  with  the  fierce  looks  of  these  bloody  men. 

§2.  Exclamation,  especially  when  indicating  strong 
emotion ; as. 

Oh,  ye  Gods^I  ye  Gods*^!  must  I endure  ail  this? 

Hark^!  Hark^l  the  horrid  sound 
Hath  raised  up  his  head. 

A present  deity^!  they  shout  around, 

A present  deity^!  the  vaulted  roofs  rebound. 

For  interrogatory  exclamation,  see  Rule  X,  Remark. 


SERIES  OF  WORDS  OR  MEMBERS. 

§3.  A series  of  words  or  members^  w^hether  in  the 
beginning  or  middle  of  a sentence,  if  it  does  not  conclude 
the  sentence,  is  called  a commencing  series^  and  requires 
the  falling  inflection  at  each  wmrd  or  member  except  the 
last^  which  must  have  the  rising  inflection. 

Questions. — Repeat  Rule  VH.  What  is  the  first  particular  under 
this  rule  ? Give  an  example.  What  is  the  second  particular  ? Give 
an  example.  What  is  the  third  head  under  this  rule  ? What  is  a 
commencing  series  ? 


INFLECTIONS. 


17 


EXAMPLES  OF  COMMENCING  SERIES. 

V/ine*^,  beauty^,  music^,  pomp^,  are  poor  expedients  to  heave 
off  the  load  of  an  hour  from  the  heir  of  eternity‘s. 

Absalom^s  beauty^,  Jonathan’s  love'^,  David’s  valor^,  Solomon’s 
wisdom^,  the  patience  of  Job^,  the  prudence  of  Augustus^,  the  elo- 
quence of  Cicero^,  and  the  intelligence  of  alP,  though  faintly 
amiable  in  the  creature,  are  found  in  immense  perfection  in  the 
Creator^. 

I conjure  you  by  that  which  you  profess, 

(Howe’er  you  came  to  know  it),  answer  me ; 

Though  you  untie  the  winds  and  let  them  fight 
Against  the  churches'^;  though  the  yeasty  waves 
Confound  and  swallow  navigation^  up ; 

Though  bladed  corn  be  lodged,  and  trees  blown  down'^; 
Though  castles  topple  on  their  warder’s  heads^; 

Though  palaces  and  pyramids  do  slope 

Their  heads  to  their  foundations^;  though  the  treasures 

Of  nature’s  germens  tumble  altogether^. 

Even  till  destruction  sicken^;  answer  me 

^ To  what  I ask^  you. 

§4.  A series  of  Avords  or  members  Avliich  concludes  a 
sentence,  is  called  a concluding  series^  and  must  have  the 
falling  inflection  at  each  member,  except  the  last  but  one, 
which  must  have  the  rising  inflection. 

EXAMPLES  OF  CONCLUDING  SERIES. 

They  passed  o’er  many  a frozen,  many  a fiery  Alp ; 

^Rocks^j^aves^,  lakes^,  fens^,  bogs^,  dens^,  and  shades  of  doath^. 

They,  through  iaith,  subdue?  kingdoms^,  wrought  righteous- 
ness^, obtained  promises^,  stopped  the  mouths  of  lions^,  quenched 
the  violence  of  fire^,  escaped  the  edge  of  the  sword^,  out  of  wctak- 
ness  were  made  strong^,  waxed  valiant  in  fight^,  turned  to  flight 
the  armies  of  aliens^. 

Remark. — When  the  emphasis  on  these  words  or  members 
is  not  marked,  they  take  the  rising  inflection,  according  to 
Rule  IX. 

EXAMPLES. 

They  are  the  offspring  of  restlessness^,  vanity^,  and  idleness*^. 

Love^,  hope^,  and  joy^  took  possession  of  his  breast. 

Questions. — AVhat  is  a concluding  series  ? Give  examples, 
the  remark,  and  give  examples. 

5th  R.  ^^2 


18 


INFLEC  TIONS. 


§5.  When  words,  which  naturally  take  the  rising  in- 
flection, become  emphatic  by  repetition  or  any  other 
cause,  they  often  take  the  falling  inflection. 

Exception  to  the  Rule. — While  the  tendency  of  emphasis  is 
decidedly  to  the  use  of  the  falling  inflection^  sometimes  a word 
to  which  the  falling  inflection  naturally  belongs,  changes  this, 
when  it  is  emphatic,  for  the  rising  inflection. 


EXAMPLES. 


Three  thousand  ducats^;  His  a good  round  sum^. 

It  is  useless  to  point  out  the  beauties  of  nature  to  one  who  is  blind  . 

Here  sum  and  hlind,  according  to  Rule  VI,  would  take  the 
falling  inflection,  but  as  they  are  emphatic,  and  the  object  of 
emphasis  is  to  draw  attention  to  the  word  emphasized,  this  is 
here  accomplished  in  part  by  giving  an  unusual  inflection. 
Some  speakers  would  give  these  words  the  circumflex,  but  it 
would  be  the  rising  circumflex,  so  that  the  sound  would  still 
terminate  with  the  rising  inflection. 


Rule  VIII. — Questions  which  can  not  be  answered  by 
yes  or  no^  together  with  their  answers,  generally  require 
the  falling  inflection. 

EXAMPLES. 


Where  has  he  gone^? 
What  has  he  done^? 
Who  did  this^? 

When  did  he  go^? 


Ans.  To  New  York^. 
Ans.  Nothing*^. 

Ans.  I know  not^. 
Ans.  Yesterday^. 


Remark. — If  these  questions  are  repeated,  the  inflection  is 
changed,  according  to  the  principle  stated  under  the  Exception 
to  Rule  VII. 

Where  did  you  say  he  had  gone^? 

What  has  he  done^? 

When  did  he  go''? 

Who  did  it^? 


RISING  INFLECTION. 

Rule  IX. — Where  a pause  is  rendered  proper  by  the 

Questions. — What  is  the  fifth  head  under  this  rule  ? Repeat  the 
"Option.  Give  the  examples.  AVhat  is  supposed  to  be  tbe  reason  of 
ception?  Repeat  Rule  VIII.  If  these  questions  are  repeated, 
iflection  ia  used.  Repeat  Rule  IX. 


INFLECTIONS. 


19 


meaning,  and  the  sense  is  incomplete,  the  rising  inflection 
is  generally  required. 

EXAMPLES. 

To  endure  slander  and  abuse  with  meekness^,  requires  no  ordi* 
narj  degree  of  self-command'^. 

Night  coming  on^,  both  armies  retired  from  the  field  of  battle'^. 

As  a dog  returneth  to  his  vomit^,  so  a fool  returneth  to  his  folly^. 

Eemark. — The  person  or  object  addressed,  comes  under 
this  head. 

EXAMPLES. 

Fathers^!  we  once  again  are  met  in  council. 

My  lords^!  and  gentlemen^  1 we  have  arrived  at  an  awful  crisis. 

Age^!  thou  art  shamed. 

Rome^!  thou  hast  lost  the  breed  of  noble  bloods! 

Exception. — Where  a word,  which,  according  to  this  rule, 
requires  the  rising  inflection,  becomes  emphatic,  it  generally 
must  have  the  falling  inflection,  according  to  Rule  VII. 

EXAMPLES. 

When  we  aim  at  a high  standard,  if  we  do  not  attain'^  it,  we 
shall  secure  a high  degree  of  excellence. 

Those  who  mingle  with  the  vicious,  if  they  do  not  become  de- 
praved'^f  will  lose  all  delicacy  of  feeling. 

So  also,  when  a child  addresses  his  father,  he  first  says.  Fath- 
er^ ! but  if  he  repeats  it  emphatically,  he  changes  the  inflec- 
tion, and  says.  Father^!  Father^! 

Remark. — The  principle  of  this  rule  will  be  found  to  apply 
especially  to  the  last  pause  before  the  close  of  a sentence,  as 
that  is  generally  the  most  interesting  point  of  suspension.  See 
examples  under  Rule  VII,  §3.  Harmony  of  sound,  also,  seems 
to  require  the  rising  inflection  at  this  place,  even  when  other 
reasons  would  indicate  the  contrary. 

Rule  X. — Questions  which  may  be  answered  by  yes 
or  n(9,  generally  require  the  rising^  and  their  answers  the 
falling  inflection. 

Questions. — Of  what  rule  is  this  the  converse  or  opposite  ? Give 
some  of  the  examples  under  this  rule.  What  inflection  has  the  person 
addiessed?  Give  examples.  Give  the  exception  to  Rule  IX,  and 
examples.  To  what  does  the  principle  of  this  rule  especially  apply  ? 
Repeat  the  exception.  Repeat  Rule  X. 


20 


INFLECTIONS. 


EXAMPLES. 

Has  he  arrived^?  Yes^. 

Will  he  return^?  No^. 

Does  the  law  condemn  him^?  It  does  nof^. 

Exception. — If  these  questions  are  repeated  emphatically, 
Ihey  take  the  falling  inflection,  according  to  rule  YII. 

EXAMPLES. 

Has  he  arrived^  ? 

Will  he  return'^  ? 

Does  the  law  condemn  him'^  ? 

Remark. — 'When  a word  or  sentence  is  repeated  as  a kind 
of  interrogatory  exclamation,  the  rising  inflection  is  used,  ac- 
cording to  the  principles  of  this  rule. 

EXAMPLES. 

You  ask,  who  would  venture^  in  such  a cause?  Who  would 
venture^  ? Rather  say,  who  would  not^  venture  all  things  for  such 
an  object? 

He  is  called  the  friend^  of  virtue.  The  friend^!  ay!  the  en- 
thusiastic lover^,  the  devoted  protector^,  rather. 

So,  also,  when  one  receives  unexpected  information,  he  ex- 
claims, Ah^l  indeed^! 

Remark. — In  the  above  examples,  the  words  ^^venture,'" 

friend,^’  ah,^^  &c.,  may  be  considered  as  interrogatory  ex- 
clamations, because,  if  the  sense  were  carried  out,  it  would  be 
in  the  form  of  question;  as,  ‘^Do  you  ask  who  would  ven- 
ture^f'  ‘^Do  you  say  that  he  is  the/rie?icZ^  of  virtue  ^^Is 
it  possible^  and  thus,  they  would  receive  the  rising  inflection 
according  to  this  rule. 

RISING  AND  FALLING  INFLECTIONS. 

Rule  XI. — The  different  members  of  a sentence 
expressing  comparison,  or  contrast,  or  negation  and 
affirmation,  or  where  the  parts  are  united  by  or  used 
disjunctively,  require  different  inflections;  generally  the 
rimng  inflection  in  the  first  member,  and  the  flailing  in- 

Questions. — Give  examples  under  Rule  X.  Repeat  the  remark,  and 
explain  the  examples.  What  is  the  Rule  XI?  What  is  the  first  head 
under  this  rule  ? Give  an  example. 


INFLECTIONS. 


21 


flection  in  the  second  member.  This  order  is,  however, 
sometimes  inverted. 

§1.  Comparison  and  contrast.  This  is  also  called  antithesis. 

EXAMPLES.  ^ 

By  all  things  approving  ourselves  the  ministers  of  God ; by  hon- 
or^, and  dishonor^;  by  evil^  report,  and  good^  report;  as  deceivers 
and  yet  true'";  as  unknown^,  and  yet  well^  known;  as  dyings, 
and  behold  we  live^  ; as  chastened^,  and  not  killed^;  as  sorrow- 
ful^, yet  always  rejoicing  ; as  poor^,  yet  making  many  rich^;  as 
having  nothing^,  and  yet  possessing  alb  things. 

Europe  was  one  great  battle-field,  where  the  weak  struggled  for 
freedom^,  and  the  strong  for  dominion^.  The  king  was  without 
power and  the  nobles,  without  principle'".  They  were  tyrants  at 
home^,  and  robbers  abroad^. 

§2.  Negation  and  affirmation. 

EXAMPLES. 

He  desired  not  to  injure^  his  friend,  but  to  protect  him. 

We  desire  not  your  moneys,  but  yourselves^. 

I did  not  say  a better^  soldier,  but  an  elder^. 

If  the  affirmative  clause  comes  first,  the  order  of  the  inflec- 
tions is  inverted. 

EXAMPLES. 

He  desired  to  protect^  his  friend,  not  to  injure^  him. 

We  desire  yourselves'-,  not  your  moneys. 

I said  an  elder^  soldier,  not  a better^. 

The  affirmative  clause  is  sometimes  understood. 

EXAMPLES. 

We  desire  not  your  moneys. 

I did  not  say  a better^  soldier. 

The  region  beyond  the  grave,  is  not  a solitary'^  land. 

In  most  negative  sentences  standing  alone,  the  corresponding 
affirmative  is  understood  ; hence  the  following 

Remark. — Negative  sentences,  whether  alone  or  connected 
with  an  affirmative  clause,  generally  end  with  the  rising 
inflection. 

Questions. — What  is  the  second  head?  Give  examples.  If  the 
affirmative  clause  comes  first,  in  what  order  are  the  inflections  used  ? 
Give  examples.  Is  either  ole-use  ever  omitted  ? Repeat  the  remark. 


22 


INFLECTIONS. 


If  such  sentences  are  repeated  emphatically,  they  take  the 
falling  inflection,  according  to  Rule  VI. 

EXAMPLES. 

We  do  not^  desire  your  money. 

I did  not^  say  a better  soldier. 

§8.  Or  used  disjunctively. 

Did  he  behave  properly^,  or  improperly^? 

Are  they  living^,  or  dead'"? 

Is  he  rich^,  or  poor^? 

Does  God,  having  made  his  creatures,  take  no  further^  care  of 
them,  or  does  he  preserve,  and  guide  them^? 

Remark. — Where  or  is  used  conjunctively  this  rule  does 
not  apply ; as, 

Will  the  lavr  of  kindness^  or  of  justice^  justify  such  conduct^? 


CIRCUMFLEX,  f 

The  circumflex  is  a union  of  the  rising  and  falling  in- 
flections upon  the  same  sound.  Properly  speaking,  there 
are  two  of  these,  the  one  called  the  rismg  circumflex,  in 
which  the  voice  slides  down  and  then  up ; and  the  other, 
the  falling  circumflex,  in  which  the  voice  slides  upward 
and  then  downward  on  the  same  vowel.  They  may  both 
be  denoted  by  the  same  mark;  thus  (^).  The  circum- 
flex is  used  chiefly  to  indicate . the  emphasis  of  irony,  or 
of  contrast,  or  of  hypothesis. 

EXAMPLES. 

1,  Queen,  Hamlet,  you  have  your  father  much  offended. 

Hamlet,  Madam,  you  have  my  father  much  offended. 

2.  They  offer  us  their  protect tion.  Yes^,  sflch  protection,  as 
vflltures  give  to  lambs,  cbvering  and  devouring  them. 

Questions. — If  sentences  requiring  the  rising  inflection  are  re- 
peated emphatically,  what  inflections  are  used  ? What  is  the  third 
head  under  this  rule?  Give  examples.  Repeat  the  remark.  What  in- 
flections are  united  to  form  the  circumflex?  Explain  the  two  kinds 
of  circumflex.  What  does  the  circumflex  indicate?  Give  an  example 
in  which  it  is  used  to  indicate  the  emphasis  of  contrast,  and  explain 
it.  Explain  the  one  in  which  the  emphasis  of  irony  is  illustrated. 


INFLECTIONS. 


23 


3.  I knew  when  seven  justices  could  not  make  up  a quarrel; 
but  when  the  parties  met  themselves,  one  of  them  thought  but  of  an 
if;  as,  if  you  said  so,  then  I said  s6  ; Oh  ho  1 did  you  say  so  ? So 
they  shook  hands  and  were  sworn  brothers. 

Eemarks. — In  the  fr&t  example  the  emphasis  is  that  of 
contrast.  The  queen  had  poisoned  her  husband,  of  which  she 
incorrectly  supposed  her  son  ignorant,  and  she  blames  him  for 
treating  his  father-in-law  with  disrespect.  In  his  reply,  Ham- 
let contrasts  her  deep  crime  with  his  own  slight  offense,  and 
the  circumflex  upon  you^  becomes  proper. 

In  the  second  example  the  emphasis  is  ironical.  The  Span- 
iards pretended,  that  they  would  protect  the  Peruvians,  if  they 
would  submit  to  them,  whereas,  it  was  evident,  that  they 
merely  desired  to  plunder  and  destroy  them.  Thus  their  pro- 
tection is  ironically  called  sHch  protection  as  viUtures  give  to 
Idmhs,  &c. 

In  the  third  example,  the  word  ^‘so’^  is  used  hypothetically, 
that  is,  it  implies  a condition  or  supposition.  It  will  be 
observed  that  the  rising  circumflex  is  used  in  the  first  ^^so,^' 
and  the  falling,  in  the  second,  because  the  first  ^^so”  must  end 
with  the  rising  inflection,  and  the  second,  with  the  falling  in- 
flection, according  to  previous  rules. 


MONOTONE. 

When  no  word  in  a sentence  receives  an  inflection,  it 
is  said  to  be  read  in  a monotone ; that  is,  in  nearly  the 
same  tone  throughout.  This  uniformity  of  tone  is  occa- 
sionally adopted,  and  is  fitted  to  express  solemnity  or 
sublimity  of  idea,  and  sometimes  intensity  of  feeling.  It 
is  used,  also,  when  the  whole  sentence  or  phrase  is  em- 
phatic. In  books  of  elocution,  when  it  is  marked  at  all, 
it  is  generally  marked  thus  ( — ),  as  in  the  fourth  line 
following. 

EXAMPLES. 

Hence!  loathed  Melancholy!.^ 

Where  brd(^ing  darkness  spreads  her  jeabus  wings, 
Questions. — Give  the  last  example  and  explain  it.  When  is  a sen- 
tence said  to  be  read  in  a monotone?  When  is  a monotone  appro- 
priate ? 


24 


ACCENT. 


And  the  night  raven  sings; 

There,  under  ebon  shades  and  low-browed  rocks, 
As  ragged  as  thy  locks, 

In  deep  Cimmerian  darkness  ever  dwell. 


IV.  ACCENT. 

In  every  word  which  contains  more  than  one  syllable, 
one  of  the  syllables  is  pronounced  with  a somev/hat 
greater  stress  of  voice,  than  the  others.  This  syllable  is 
said  to  be  accented.  The  accented  syllable  is  distin- 
guished by  this  mark  (^),  the  same  which  is  used  in 
inflections. 

EXAMPLES. 


Love^-ly, 

re-turn^, 

Con  ^-stant, 

re-main^, 

Mem^-ber, 

a-bide^, 

Win^-dow, 

a-tone^, 

Ban^-ner, 

a-lone^, 

re-mem  ^-ber, 
a-sun  ^-der, 
a-ban  ^-don, 
rec-ol-lect^, 
re-em-bark^. 


Kemauk. — In  most  cases,  custom  is  the  only  guide  for 
placing  the  accent  on  one  syllable  rather  than  another.  Some- 
times, however,  the  same  word  is  differently  accented,  in  order 
to  mark  its  different  meanings. 


EXAMPLES. 


Cb/i^-jure,  to  practice  enchantments.  Con-^wre^,  to  entreat. 
(?aZ^-lant,  brave.  Gal-ZaAi^^,  a gay  fellow. 

Ati^-gust,  a month.  A\x-giist^y  grand. 

Remark. — A number  of  words,  also,  have  their  accent  on 
one  syllable  when  verbs  or  adjectives,  and  on  another,  when 
nouns. 

EXAMPLES. 


Buh  ^-j  ec t,  th e n 0 un ; 
Pre.9^-ent,  „ 
Cb/A^-duct,  „ 
06-^ject, 


to  sub-ybc^^,  the  verb, 
to  pre-5e?i^^,  ,, 

to  QO\i-duct^,  ,, 
to  oh-ject',  ,, 


Questions. — Which  line  in  the  example  is  to  be  read  in  this  way? 
Why?  When  is  a syllable  said  to  be  accented?  Give  an  example, 
flow  is  the  accented  syllable  marked?  What  is  generally  the  guide 
for  placing  the  accent?  When  is  the  same  word  differently  accented? 
an  example  under  each  head. 


EMPHASIS. 


25 


V.  EMPHASIS. 

A WORD  is  said  to  be  emphasized^  when  it  is  uttered 
with  a greater  stress  of  voice,  than  the  other  words  with 
which  it  is  connected. 

Remark  1. — The  object  of  emphasis  is,  to  attract  particular 
attention  to  the  word  upon  which  it  is  placed,  indicating,  that 
the  idea  to  be  conveyed,  depends  very  much  upon  that  word. 
This  object,  as  just  stated,  is  generally  accomplished  by  in- 
creasing the  force  of  utterance,  but  sometimes,  also,  by  a 
change  in  the  inflection,  the  use  of  the  monotone,  or  by  utter- 
ing the  words  in  a very  low  tone.  Emphatic  words  are  often 
denoted  by  italics^  and  a still  stronger  emphasis  by  small 
CAPITALS  or  LARGE  CAPITALS,  according  to  the  degree  of 
emphasis  desired. 

Remark  2. — Emphasis  constitutes  the  most  important  fea- 
ture in  reading  and  speaking,  and,  properly  applied,  gives  life' 
and  character  to  language.  Accent,  inflection,  and,  indeed, 
every  thing  yields  to  emphasis.  ’ * 

Remark  3. — In  the  following  examples,  it  will  be  seen  that 
accent  is  governed  by  it. 

EXAMPLES. 

What  is  done,  can  not  be  imdone. 

There  is  a difference  between  giving  andybrgiving. 

He  that  c?escended  is  the  same  that  ascended. 

Some  appear  to  make  very  little  difference  between  d^ecency  and 
indecency,  morality  and  immorality,  I’eligion  and  iVreligion. 

Remark  4. — There  is  no  better  illustration  of  the  nature 
and  importance  of  emphasis,  than  the  following  examples.  It 
will  be  observed  that  the  meaning  and  proper  answer  of  the 
question  vary  with  each  change  of  the  emphasis. 

Questions. — When  is  a word  emphasized?  Upon  what  part  of  the 
word  is  the  increased  stress  placed?  What  is  the  object  of  emphasis? 
In  what  other  way,  than  the  one  just  mentioned,  can  this  be  accom- 
plished? How  are  emphatic  words  marked?  What  is  said  of  the 
importance  of  emphasis?  Wlint  other  things  yield  to  emphasis? 

^ .5th  R — .3 


26 


EMPHASIS. 


* EXAMPLES. 

QUESTIONS.  ANSWERS. 

Did  you  walk  into  the  city  yesterday?  No,  my  brother  went. 

Did  you  walk  into  the  city  yesterday?  No,  I rode. 

Did  you  walk  into  the  city  yesterday  ? No,  I went  into  the  country^ 
Did  you  walk  into  the  city  yesterday?  No,  I went  the  day  before. 


ABSOLUTE  EMPHASIS. 

Sometimes  a word  is  emphasized  simply  to  indicate 
the  importance  of  the  idea.  This  is  called  absolute 
emphasis. 

EXAMPLES. 

To  arms  ! they  come  1 the  Greek  ! the  Greek  ! 

Strike — till  the  last  armed  foe  expires, 

Strike — for  your  altars  and  your  fire^ 

Strike — for  the  green  graves  of  your  sij^es, 

God — and  your  native  land. 

Woe  unto  you  Pharisee^!  Hypocrites! 

Days,  months,  years,  and  ages,  shall  circle  away. 

Kemark. — In  instances  like  the  last,  it  is  sometimes  called 
the  emphasis.oi  specification. 

EELATIVE  EMPHASIS.  'h 

Words  are  often  emphasized,  in  order  to  exhibit  the 
idea  they  express,  as  compared  or  contrasted  with  some 
other  idea.  This  is  called  relative  emphasis. 

examples. 

It  is  much  better  to  be  injured,  than  to  injure. 

They  fight  for  plunder,  we,  for  our  country. 

A friend  can  not  be  known  in  prosperity : an  enemy  can  not  be 
hidden  in  adversity. 

They  follow  an  adventurer  whom  they  fear  ; we  serve  a monarch 
whom  we  love. 

Questions. — Give  some  examples  in  which  accent  yields  to  it. 
What  is  absolute  emphasis?  Give  examples.  What  is  meant  by  reZa- 
tive  emphasis  ? Give  the  examples,  and  show  the  words  contrasted. 
Give  the  examples,  in  which  the  emphasis  is  carried  through  several 
sets  of  contrasted  words,  and  point  out  which  words  are  opposed  to 
each  other.  (See  last  two  examples  on  this  page.) 


EMPHASIS. 


:i7 


Eemark. — In  many  instances,  one  part  only  of  the  antithesis 
is  expressed,  the  corresponding  idea  being  understood  ; as, 

A friendly  eye  would  never  see  such  faults. 

Here  the  unfriendly  eye  is  understood. 

King  Henry  exclaims,  while  vainly  endeavoring  to  compose 
himself  to  rest, 

How  many  thousands  of  my  subjects  are  at  this  hour  asleep. 

Here  the  emphatic  words  thousands,  subjects,  and  asleep  are 
contrasted  in  idea  with  their  opposites,  and  if  the  contrasted 
ideas  were  expressed,  it  might  be  in  this  way : 

While  I alone,  their  sovereign,  am  doomed  to  wakefulness. 


EMPHATIC  PHRASE. 

Sometimes  several  words  in  succession  are  emphasized. 

EXAMPLES. 

Shall  I,  the  conqueror  of  Spain  and  Gaul,  and  not  only  of  the 
Alpine  nations,  but  of  the  Alps  themselves — shall  I compare  my 
self  with  this  half — year — captain  ? 

Shall  we  try  argument  ? Sir,  we  have  been  trying  that  for  the 

LAST  TEN  YEARS. 

And  if  thou  said’st,  I am  not  peer 
To  any  lord  in  Scotland  here. 

Lowland  or  Highland,  far  or  near. 

Lord  Angus — thou — hast — LIED  ! 


EMPHATIC  PAUSE. 

An  emphatic  expression  of  sentence  often  requires  a 
pause,  where  the  grammatical  construction  authorizes 
none.  This  is  sometimes  called  the  rhetorical  pause. 
Such  pauses  occur,  chiefly,  before  or  after  an  emphatic 
word  or  phrase,  and  sometimes  both  before  and  after  it. 

Questions. — Is  the  idea  corresponding  to  the  emphatic  word  ever 
left  out?  Explain  the  last  two  examples  under  this  head,  and  show 
what  is  the  idea  opposed  to  friendly,  in  the  one,  and  what  are  opposed 
to  thousands,  subjects,  and  asleep,  in  the  other.  What  is  meant  by  the 
emphatic  phrase  ? Give  the  examples.  What  do  you  understand  by 
the  emphatic  pause  9 Where  does  it  occur? 


28 


MODULATION. 


EXAMPLES. 

E-ise — fellow  men ! our  country — yet  remains  ! 

By  that  dread  name  we  wave  the  sword  on  high, 
And  swear  ybr  her — to  live — with  her — to  die. 

But  most — by  numbers  judge  the  poePs  song; 

And  smooth  or  rough,  with  them  is — right  or  wrong. 
He  said  ; then  full  before  their  sight 
Produced  the  beast,  and  lo  ! — H was  white. 


VI.  MODULATION. 

Modulation  includes  the  variations  of  the  voice.  These 
may  be  classed  under  the  heads  of  Pitch,  Compass, 
Quantity,  and  Quality.  "" 


PITCH  AND  COMPASS. . 

If  any  one  will  notice  closely  a sentence  as  uttered  in  pri- 
vate conversation,  he  will  observe  that  very  few  successive 
words  are  pronounced  in  exactly  the  same  tone.  At  the  same 
time,  however,  there  is  a certain  pitch  or  hey^  which  seems, 
on  the  whole,  to  prevail. 

This  key  note  or  governing  note,  as  it  may  be  called,  is  that 
upon  which  the  voice  most  frequently  dwells,  to  which  it 
usually  returns  when  wearied,  and  upon  which  a sentence  # 
generally  commences  and  very  frequently  ends,  while,  at  the 
same  time,  there  is  a considerable  play  of  the  voice  above  and 
below  it. 

This  note  may  be  high  or  low.  It  varies  in  different  indi- 
viduals, and  at  different  times  in  the  same  individual,  being 
governed  by  the  nature  of  the  subject  and  the  emotions  of 
the  speaker. 

The  range  of  the  voice  above  and  below  this  note,  is  called 
its  COMPASS.  When  the  speaker  is  animated,  this  range  is 
great;  but  upon  abstract  subjects,  or  with  a dull  speaker,  it  is 
small.  If,  in  reading  or  speaking,  too  high  a note  be  chosen, 

Questions. — Give  examples.  What  is  modulation?  What  is  meant 
by  the  key  note?  Is  this  the  same  at  all  times  and  in  all  individ- 
uals? What  circumstances  cause  it  to  differ?  What  is  meant  by 
compass  of  voice?  Under  what  circumstances  is  tliis  range  great? 


MODULATION. 


29 


the  luugs  will  soou  become  wearied;  if  too  low  a pitch  be 
selected,  there  is  danger  of  indistinctness  of  utterance;  and 
in  either  case  there  is  less  room  for  compass  or  variety  of  tone, 
than  if  one  be  taken  between  the  two  extremes. 

To  secure  the  proper  pitch  and  the  greatest  compass,  observe 
the  following  rule. 

Rule  XII. — The  reader  or  speaker  should  choose  that 
pitch,  in  wdiich  he  can  feel  himself  most  at  ease,  and 
above  and  below’  which  he  may  have  most  room  for 
variation. 

Remark  1. — Having  chosen  the  proper  key  note,  he 
should  beware  of  confining  himself  to  it.  This  constitutes 
monotony^  one  of  the  greatest  faults  in  elocution.  One  very 
important  instrument  for  giving  expression  and  life  to 
thought  is  thus  lost,  and  the  hearer  soon  becomes  wearied 
and  disgusted. 

Remark  2. — There  is  another  fault  of  nearly  equal  mag- 
nitude, and  of  very  frequent  occurrence.  This  consists  in 
varying  the  tones  without  reference  to  the  sense,  A sentence 
is  commenced  with  vehemence  and  in  a high  tone,  and  the 
voice  gradually  sinks,  until  the  breath  being  spent,  it  dies 
away  in  a whisper. 

Remark  3. — The  habit  of  sing-sony,  so  common  in  reading 
poetry,  as  it  is  a variation  of  tone  without  reference  to  the 
sense,  is  a species  of  the  fault  above  mentioned. 

Remark  4. — If  the  reader  or  speaker  is  guided  by  the 
sense j and  if  he  gives  that  emphasis^  infiection^  and  expression^ 
required  by  the  meaning,  these  faults  will  speedily  disappear. 

Remark  5. — To  improve  the  voice  in  these  respects,  prac- 
tice is  necessary.  Commence,  for  example,  with  the  lowest 
pitch  the  voice  can  comfortably  sound,  and  repeat  whole  para- 
graphs and  pages  upon  that  key.  Then  rise  one  note  higher, 
and  practice  on  that,  then  another,  and  so  on,  until  the 

Questions. — When  is  it  small?  If  too  high  a key  note  be  selected, 
what  is  the  consequence  ? If  the  note  be  too  low,  what  danger  is 
there?  What  is  the  rule  on  this  subject?  What  is  monotony? 
What  are  the  evils  arising  from  this  fault?  What  other  faults  of  tone 
are  mentioned  ? AVhat  manner  of  reading  poetry  is  mentioned  ? 
How  are  these  faults  to  be  corrected  ? 


30 


MODULATION. 


liigliest  pitch  of  the  voice  is  reached.  This  is  illustrated  in 
the  following  example.  Sound  the  lowest  musical  note  and 
pronounce  the  sentence  on  the  same,  then  the  next,  and  so  on. 

:: 8. — do — 9 — Man  wants  hut  little  here  below. 

7.  si  ^ Man  wants  but  little  here  below. 

6. — la — ^ — Man  wants  but  little  here  below. 

5.  sol  # Man  wants  but  little  here  below. 

4.  -fa — 0 — Man  wants  but  little  here  below. 

3.  mi  Man  wants  but  little  here  below. 

2. — re — 0 — Man  wants  but  little  here  below. 

1.  do  0 Man  wants  but  little  here  below. 


QUANTITY  AND  QUALITY^ 

The  tones  of  the  voice  should  vary,  also,  in  quantity^ 
or  degree  of  loudness^  and  in  quality^  or  expression^  ac- 
cording to  the  nature  of  the  subject. 

Eemark. — We  notice  a difference  between  the  soft,  in 
sinuating  tones  of  persuasion;  the  full,  strong  voice  of  com- 
mand and  decision;  the  harsh,  irregular,  and  sometimes  grating 
explosion  of  the  sounds  of  passion;  the  plaintive  notes  of 
sorrow  and  pity;  and  the  equable  and  unimpassioned  flow  of 
words  in  argumentative  style. 

The  following  direction,  upon  this  point,  is  worthy  of 
attention. 


Rule  XIII. — The  tones  of  the  voice  should  always 
correspond,  both  in  quantity  and  quality^  with  the  nature 
of  the  subject. 

EXAMPLES. 

^“Come  back!  come  back!^^  he  cried,  in  grief, 

“ Across  this  stormy  w^er, 

And  Fll  forgive  your  Highland  chief, 

My  daughter!  oh,  my  daughter !^^ 


Passion 

and 

Grief, 


Plaintive, 


' I have  lived  long  enough : my  way  of  life 
Is  fallen  into  the  sear,  the  yellow  leaf: 

- And  that  which  should  accompany  old  age, 
As  honor,  love,  obedience,  troops  of  friends, 
I must  not  look  to  have. 


Questions. — ^Wliat  is  said  with  regard  to  varying  the  tones  in 
quantity  and  quality?  What  difference  do  we  notice  in  tones? 
Repeat  Rule  XIII. 


MODULATION. 


31 


1A  very  great  portion  of  this  globe  is  covered  with 
water,  which  is  called  sea,  and  is  very  distinct  from 
rivers  and  lakes. 

Burned  Marmion^s  swarthy  cheek  like  fire, 

And  shook  his  very  frame  for  ire. 

And — “ This  to  me?^^  he  said  ; 

“And  Twere  not  for  thy  hoary  beard. 

Such  hand  as  Marmion^s  had  not  spared 
To  cleave  the  Douglas^  head ! 

“Even  in  thy  pitch  of  pride. 

Here,  in  thy  hold,  thy  vassals  near, 

I tell  thee  thou  h’t  defied  1 
And  if  thou  said^st  I am  not  peer 
To  any  lord  in  Scotland  here. 

Lowland  or  Highland,  far  or  near, 

^ Lord  Angus,  thou  hast  lied 

Remark  1. — In  our  attempt  to  imitate  nature,  it  is  impor- 
tant to  avoid  affectation^  for  to  this  fault  even  perfect  monotony 
is  preferable. 

Remark  2. — The  strength  of  the  voice  may  be  increased  by 
practicing  with  different  degrees  of  loudness^  from  a whisper  to 
full  rotundity,  taking  care  to  keep  the  voice  on  the  same  key. 
The  same  note  in  music  may  be  sounded  loud  or  soft.  So  also 
a sentence  may  be  pronounced  on  the  same  pitch  with  different 
degrees  of  loudness.  Having  practiced  with  different  degrees 
of  loudness  on  one  key,  make  the  same  experiment  on  another, 
and  then  on  another,  and  so  on.  This  will  also  give  the 
learner  practice  in  compass. 

Let  the  pupil  sound  the  vowels,  increasing  from  soft  to 
loud,  and  then  decreasing  from  loud  to  soft,  as  follows : 

ooooOOOOOOO 

OOOOO-Oooooo 

Questions. — What  must  be  guarded  against  in  attempts  to  imitate 
nature?  How  may  the  voice  be  improved  in  strength?  How  may 
the  same  note  be  sounded  in  music?  How  may  this  be  applied  to 
reading  a sentence? 


Fierce 

Anger. 


Loud 

and 

Explosive. 


32 


POETIC  PAUSES. 


VII.  POETIC  PAUSES. 

In  poetry,  we  have,  in  addition  to  other  pauses,  poetic 
PAUSES.  The  object  of  these  is  simply  to  promote  the 
melody. 

At  the  end  of  each  line,  a slight  pause  is  generally 
proper,  whatever  be  the  grammatical  construction  or  the 
sense.  The  purpose  of  this  is,,  to  make  prominent  the 
melody  of  the  measure,  and,  in  rhyme,  to  allow  the  ear 
to  appreciate  the  harmony  of  the  similar  sounds. 

There  is,  also,  another  important  pause,  somewhere 
near  the  middle  of  each  line,  which  is  called  the  cesura  or 
cesural  pause.  In  the  following  lines  it  is  marked  thus-—* 

EXAMPLES. 

There  are  hours  long  departed — which  memory  brings, 

Like  blossoms  of  Eden — to  twine  round  the  heart, 

And  as  time  rush^  by — on  the  might  of  his  wings, 

They  may  darken  awhile — but  they  never  depart. 

Remark. — The  cesural  pause  should  never  be  so  placed  as 
to  injure  the  sense.  The  following  lines,  if  melody  alone  were 
consulted,  would  be  read  thus, 

With  fruitless  la — bor  Clara  bound, 

And  strove  to  stanch — the  gushing  wound ; 

The  Monk  with  un — availing  cares, 

Exhausted  all — the  church’s  prayers. 

This  manner  of  reading,  however,  it  will  be  readily  per- 
ceived, would  very  much  interfere  with  the  proper  expression 
of  the  idea.  This  is  to  be  corrected,  by  making  the  cesural 
pause  yield  to  the  sense.  The  melody  is  not  injured  by  this, 
as  much  as  might  be  supposed.  The  above  lines  should  be 
read  thus. 

With  fruitless  labor — Clara  bound. 

And  strove  to  stanch— the  gushing  wound ; 

Questions. — What  pause  is  peculiar  to  poetry  ? What  is  the  object 
of  this  pause?  Where  is  a sZzyA^  pause  generally  proper?  What  is 
its  object?  What  other  pause  in  poetry  is  used?  What  is  it  called? 
Point  it  out  in  the  examples.  What  caution  is  given  with  regard  to 
its  use  ? 


EXERCISES. 


S3 


The  Monk — with  unavailing  cares, 

Exhausted — all  the  churches  prayers. 

Sometimes,  where  the  sense  requires  it,  two  cesural 
pauses  may  be  made  instead  of  one. 

EXAMPLES. 

Soldier,  rest  I — thy  warfare  o^er. 

Sleep  the  sleep — that  knows  not  breaking ; 

Dream — of  battle  fields — no  more. 

Days  of  danger — nights  of  waking. 

“ Ah,  wretch  !^’ — in  wild  anguish — he  cried, 

“ From  country — and  liberty — torn  ! 

Ah,  Maratan  ! — would  thou  hadst  died. 

Ere  o^er  the  salt  waves  thou  wert  borne.^^ 

In  lines  like  the  following,  three  cesural  pauses  are 
proper.  The  first  and  last  are  slight,  and  are  sometimes 
called  demi-cesuras. 

Our  bugles-sang  truce — for  the  night  cloud-had  lowered, 

And  the  sentinel  stars — set  their  watch-in  the  sky; 

And  thousands-had  sunk — on  the  ground-overpowered ; 

The  weary-to  sleep — and  the  wounded-to  die. 

Questions. — Explain  this  by  the  example  given  in  the  lines  “With 
fruitless  labor,”  &c.  When  may  there  be  two  cesural  pauses?  When 
there  are  three,  what  are  the  first  and  last  called? 


EXEECISES.^  -- 

I.  DEATH  OF  FRANKLIN. 

( To  he  read  in  a solemn  tone.) 

Franklin  is  dead.  The  genius  who  freed  America'",  and  poured 
a copious  stream  of  knowladg©  throughout  Europe'",  is  returned 
unto  tlie  bosom  of  the  Divini^.  The  sage  to  whom  two  worlds"' 
lay  claim,  the  man  for  whom  science^  and  politics^  are  disputing, 
indisputably  enjoyed  an  elevated  rank  in  human  nature. 

The  cabinets  of  princes  have  been  long  in  the  habit  of  notifying 
the  death  of  those  who  were  great"",  only  in  their  funeral  orations^. 
Long  hath  the  etiquette  of  courts'",  pro/3laimed  the  mourning  of 
hypocrisif.  Nations'  should  wear  mourning  for  none  but  their 
benefactors'^ . The  representatives'  of  nations  should  recommend  to 
public  homage^,  only  those  who  have  been  the  heroes  of  humanity'^. 


34 


EXERCISES. 


11.  BONAPARTE 

He  knew  no  motive'^  but  interes^'^;  acknowledged  no  criterion 
but  success'^;  he  worshiped  no  God^^  but  ainbitioti^,  and  with  an 
eastern  devotion^  he  knelt  at  the  shrine  of  his  idolatry^.  Subsid- 
iary to  this,  there  was  no  creed'"  that  he  did  not  profess^,  there 
was  no  opinion^  that  he  did  not  promulgate'^ : in  the  hope  of  a 
dynasty'"  he  upheld  the  crescent^;  for  the  sake  of  a divorce^,  he 
bowed  before  the  cross^;  the  orphan  of  St,  Louis he  became  the 
adopted  child  oi  i\\Q  republic'^  ; and  with  a parricidal  ingratitude^, 
on  the  ruins  both  of  the  throne  and  the  tribune^,  he  reared  the 
throne  of  his  despotism'^ . 

At  his  touch  crowns'"  crumbled^  ; beggars^  reigned'^;  systems'" 
vanished^  ; the  wildest  theories'"  took  the  color  of  his  whim'^  ; and 
all  that  was  venerable'^,  and  all  that  was  noveV^  changed  places 
with  the  rapidity  of  a dramo>.  Nature  had  no  obstacle'"  that  he 
did  not  surmount^  ; space  no  opposition^  he  did  not  spurn'^ ; and 
whether  amid  Alpine  rocks'^, — Arabian  sands^, — or  Polar  snows'"^ — 
he  seemed  proof'^  against  peril^,  and  empowered  with  ubiquity'^, 

HAMLET  ON  SEEING  THE  SKULL  OF  YORICK. 

Alas!  poor  Yorick  ! I knew  him  well^,  Horatio^;  a fellow  of 
infinite  jest^,  of  most  excellent  fancy^.  He  hath  borne  me  on  his 
back^,  a thousand  times'^ ; and  noiv'",  how  abhorred  in  my  imag- 
ination is  this  skull^  1 My  gorge  rises'^  at  it.  Here  hung  those 
lips  that  I have  kissed,  I know  not  how  oft^.  Where  are  your 
gibes^,  now?  your  gamho^  ? your  songs'^?  your  flashes  of  merria,^ 
ment^^  that  were  wont  to  set  the  table  in  a ros^  ? Not  one^j  now, 
to  mock  your  grinning^?  quite  chopfallen^f  Now  get  you  to  my 
lady^s  chambej::>,  and  tell  her^,  if  she  paint  an  inch  thick'^,  yet  to 
this  favor^  will  she  come  at  last^. 

IV.  DESCRIPTION  OF  A BATTLE.  . 

Yet  still  Lord  Marmion^s  falcon  flew^ 

With  wavering  flight^,  while  fiercer  grew 
Around,  the  battln  yell. 

The  border  slogan  rent  the  sky^^, 

A Home'^  ! a Gordon'^  ! was  the  cry^  ; 

Loud^  were  the  clanging  blowa^  ; 

Advanced^, — forced  back^, — now  low^, — now  high^ 

The  pennon-  sunk^ — and  rose^; 

As  bends  the  bark^s  mast  in  the  gale^. 

When  rent  are  rigging^,  shrouds^,  and  saiP, 

It  wavered  ^mid  the  foes': . 


EXERCISES. 


35 


The  war,  that  for  a space  did  faiP, 

Now  trebly  thundering  swelled  the  gale^; 

And — Stanlet/'^!  was  the  cry; 

A light  on  Marmion^s  visage  spread^, 

And  fired  his  glazing  eye^: — 

With  dying  hand^,  above  his  head^, 

He  shook  the  fragment  of  his  blade^, 

And  shouted^, — “ Victory^! 

Charge'^,  Chester^,  charge'll  Stanley^,  on'  / — 

Were  the  last  words  of  Marmion. 

V.  LORD  ULLIN’S  DAUGHTER. 

Let  the  pupil  be  guided  in  this  by  his  own  judgment,  in  inflec- 
tion ani  emphasis. 

A chieftain  to  the  Highlands  bound, 

Cries,  “ Boatman,  do  not  tarry  ! 

And  I HI  give  thee  a silver  pound. 

To  row  us  o'er  the  ferry." 

Now,  who  be  ye  would  cross  Loch-Gyle, 

This  dark  and  stormy  water?" 

“ Oh ! I 'm  the  chief  of  Ulva's  isle. 

And  this.  Lord  Ullin's  daughter. 

“ And  fast  before  her  father's  men 
Three  days  we  've  fled  together. 

For  should  he  find  us  in  the  glen. 

My  blood  would  stain  the  heather. 

“His  horsemen  hard  behind  us  ride : 

Should  they  our  steps  discover, 

Then  who  will  cheer  my  bonny  bride, 

When  they  have  slain  her  lover  ?" 

Out  spoke  the  hardy.  Highland  wight, 

“ I '11  go,  my  chief — I 'm  ready : 

It  is  not  for  your  silver  bright. 

But  for  your  winsome  lady : 

- “ And,  by  my  word ! the  bonny  bird 
In  danger  shall  not  tarry  ; 

So,  though  the  waves  are  raging  white, 

I '11  row  you  o'er  the  ferry." 


EXERCISES. 


By  this,  the  storm  grew  loud  apace, 

The  water  wraith  was  shrieking ; 

And,  in  the  scowl  of  heaven,  each  face 
Grew  dark  as  they  were  speaking. 

But  still,  as  wilder  grew  the  wind 
And  as  the  night  grew  drearer, 

Adown  the  glen  rode  arrn-ed  men, 

Their  trampling  sounded  nearer. 

haste  thee,  haste  the  lady  cries, 

“ Though  tempests  round  us  gather; 

I ^11  meet  the  raging  of  the  skies, 

But  not  an  angry  father/^ 

The  boat  has  left  the  stormy  land, 

A stormy  sea  before  her ; 

When,  oh ! too  strong  for  human  hand, 

The  tempest  gathered  o^er  her. 

And  still  they  rowed,  amid  the  roar 
Of  waters  fast  prevailing  ; 

Lord  Ullin  reached  that  fatal  shore. 

His  wrath  was  changed  to  wailing. 

For  sore  dismayed  through  storm  and  shade, 
His  child  he  did  discover ; 

One  lovely  hand  she  stretched  for  aid, 

And  one  was  round  her  lover. 

Come  back!  come  backP^  he  cried,  in  grief, 

“ Across  this  stormy  water : 

And  I ^11  forgive  your  Highland  chief. 

My  daughter ! oh,  my  daughter 

^T  was  vain : the  loud  waves  lashed  the  shore, 
Return  or  aid  preventing : 

The  waters  wild,  went  o^er  his  child, 

And  he  was  left  lamenting. 


NEW  FIFTH  HEADER 


LESSON  I.  I 


WORDS  TO  BE  SPELLED  AND  DEFINED. 


1.  Qual-i-fi-ca^-tions;  n.  traits. 

2.  State^-li-est;  adj.  most  dig- 

nified and  lofty. 


4.  Grace^-ful;  adj.  elegant. 

5.  Ver^-dure;  n.  greenness. 
7.  In-sure^;  v.  to  make  sure. 


THE  FOREST  TREES.— A Fable. 

O*  Words  marked  thus  (‘^)  in  the  body  of  the  lessons  should  be 
spelled  and  defined  in  addition  to  those  whose  definitions  are  given. 
See  +various  and  +conversation  in  the  first  paragraph. 

Pronounce  correctly  the  following  words  found  in  this  lesson. 
Do  not  say  for-es  for  for-es^ ; varoiis,  for  va-ri-ous ; sevWal  for 
Bev-e?'-al ; talles  for  tall-es^ ; friens  for  frientZs ; stateliess  for 
state-li-esi? ; selected  for  5e-lected. 

1.  In  a fine  forest  of  trees  of  ‘‘'various  kinds,  there 
were  several  which  '%ere  holding  a ‘‘‘conversation  upon 
their  ‘‘‘particular  beauty,  use,  size,  strength,  and  other 
qualifications.  Some  ‘‘‘boasted  of  one  thing,  some  of 
another. 

2.  One  of  the  tallest  and  finest  trees  said  proudly, 
‘‘Which  of  you,  my  friends,  is  so  tall  and  straight  as  I 
am?  I am  the  stateliest  tree  in  the  forest.” 

3.  Another  one  said,  “Which  of  you  is  so  strong  as  1 
am?  I have  stood  in  the  storm  for  years,  and  no  beast 
has  been  able  to  bend  or  break  me  down.  I am  the 
strongest  tree  in  the  forest.” 

4.  A third  said,  “Which  of  you  is  so  graceful  as  1 
am?  My  branches  all  wave  in  the  breeze  in  the  most 
■‘‘elegant  manner.  I am  the  most  graceful  tree  in  the 
forest.” 


37 


38 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


5.  Another  said,  ^^You  may  all  boast  of  your  size, 
strength,  and  '’’elegance,  hut  when  winter  has  stripped 
you  of  your  verdure,  how  naked  and  '’’desolate  you  ap- 
pear, while  I am  clothed  in  ’’’everlasting  green.  I am 
the  only  tree  worth  looking  at.  I am  the  brightest  and 
most  '^unfading  tree  in  the  forest.” 

6.  While  these  '’’vain  trees  were  thus  talking,  each 
trying  to  appear  better  than  the  others,  the  owner  of 
the  forest  came  with  his  wood-cutter,  to  mark  some  trees 
which  he  meant  to  have  cut  down^.  The  tall,  the 
strong,  the  graceful,  and  the  evergreen  tree,  were  all 
’’’selected^,  and  in  another  hour  were  laid  low  by  the  ax, 
and  cut  up  for  use^. 

MORAL. 

7.  Thus  you  see  how  foolish  it  is  to  be  proud  of  any 
qualifications  we  possess,  as  like  these  ’’’boastful  trees, 
we  have  not  power  to  insure  their  '’’continuance^. 

Questions. — Relate  this  fable.  What  is  its  moral? 

Where  are  falling  inflections  marked  in  this  lesson?  Where, 
rising  inflections  ? 


LESSON  IIX  . 

WORDS  TO  BE  SPELLED  AND  DEFINED. 

3.  Sap^-ling  ; n.  a small  tree.  I 3.  Rift^-ed  ; adj.  burst  open. 
3.  Grap^-pled;  contended  with.  | 4.  Gust^-y;  adj.  stormy. 


THE  OAK  TREE. 

Pronounce  correctly.  Do  not  say  monuch  for  mon-arch ; fora 
for  for-es^ ; acun  for  a-corn ; fuss  for  fir&t ; frm-iss  for  firm-es^ ; 
tem-pis  for  tem-p€s^5. 

1.  Sing  for  the  oak  tree. 

The  '’’monarch  of  the  wood  ; 

Sing  for  the  oak  tree. 

That  groweth  green  and  good  ; 

That  groweth  broad  and  branching 
Within  +he  ’’’forest  shade ; 

That  groweth  now,  and  yet  shall  grow, 

When  we  are  lowly  laid. 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


39 


2.  The  oak  tree  was  an  ’^'acorn  once, 

And  fell  upon  the  earth ; 

And  sun  and  showers  nourished  it, 

And  gave  the  oak  tree  birth. 

The  little  ^sprouting  oak  tree ! 

Two  leaves  it  had  at  first. 

The  sun  and  showers  had  nourished  it, 

Then  out  the  branches  burst. 

3.  The  little  sapling  oak  tree  ! 

Its  root  was  like  a thread. 

Till  the  kindly  earth  had  nourished  it; 

Then  out  it  freely  spread : 

On  this  side  and  on  that  side 
It  grappled  with  the  ground  ; 

And  in  the  “^ancient,  rifted  rock. 

Its  firmest  footing  found. 

4.  The  winds  came,  and  the  rain  fell ; 

The  gusty  tempest  blew ; 

All,  all  were  friends  to  the  oak  tree, 

And  stronger  yet  it  grew. 

The  boy  that  saw  the  acorn  fall^. 

He  feeble  grew  and  gray^; 

But  the  oak  was  still  a thriving  tree^, 

And  strengthened  every  day^. 

Questions. — From  what  does  an  oak  tree  grow  ? How  is  it  nour- 
ished ? What  is  said  of  its  age  in  the  last  verse  ? 

Where  is  the  rising  inflection  marked  in  this  lesson  ? What  is  the 
rule  for  its  use  there  ? Where  is  the  falling  inflection  marked  ? What 
rule  ? 


EXERCISE  I.—ARTICULATION. 

To  Teachers. — Each  difficult  word  should  he  uttered  clearly,  firs» 
by  its  elements,  and  then  by  their  combination,  omitting  silent  let 
ters : as,  d-e-th^  deaths  crime.  Then  read  carefully  and  distinctly 

Eibs,  death,  cry,  crime,  orb’d,  act,  acts. 

The  ribs  of  death.  Can  you  cry,  crackers,  crime,  cruelty,  crutches  ? 
The  orb^d  moon.  It  was  the  worst  act  of  all  acts.  It  is  a mixed 
government.  The  idle  spindle.  Long  droves  of  cattle.  Their  deeds 
show  their  feelings.  The  length,  and  breadth,  and  depth  of  the 
thing.  It  was  highly  and  holily  done. 


40 


NEW  FIFTH  READER, 


LESSON  III.  3 


1.  Re-source^;  n.  means  of  sup- 

piy- 

3.  Bwin^-dled  ; v,  became  less. 

4.  Es-pied^;  V.  saw. 

5.  Fal^-ter-ing  ; hesitating. 
9.  Bonds^-man  ; n.  one  bound  for 

another. 

12.  Vi-BRA^-TiONS ; n.  moving  to 
' and  fro. 

13.  Huskey  ; adj.  dry,  rough. 


18.  In-au^-di-ble  ; adj.  that  can 
not  be  heard.  ^ 

19.  Im^-ple-ments  ; n.  tools. 

19.  In^-va-ltd  ; n.  a sick  person. 

22^^  CoN-so^-LiNG-LY ; adv.  com- 
fortingly. 

22.  Un-wont^-ed  ; unusual. 

23.  Pre-scrip^-tion  ; n.  direction 
for  medicines. 

34.  Ob-li-ga^-tion  ; n.  promise 


THE  POOR  WIDOW. 

Pronounce  correctly.  Do  not  say  chile  for  chilcZ;  wipin  for 
wi-pin^;  fellei'  for  fel-lot^?;  fuss  for  firs^;  kinely  for  kin(i-ly  ; 
?aym  for  lay-in^  ; Aan  for  hancZ;  dolluz  ^ov  dio\-\ars, 

1.  must  be,  my  child,”  said  the  poor  widow, 
wiping  away  the  tears  which  slowly  ^trickled  down  her 
wasted  cheeks.  “ There  is  no  other  resource.  I am  too 
sick  to  work,  and  you  can  not  surely  see  me  and  your 
little  brother  starve.” 

2.  The  boy,  a noble  looking  little  fellow  of  about 
ten  years,  started  up,  and  after  throwing  his  arms 
around  his  mother’s  neck,  left  the  house  without  a word. 
He  did  not  hear  the  groan  of  ^anguish  that  was  uttered 
by  his  parent,  as  the  door  closed  behind  him;  and  it  was 
well  that  he  did  not,‘for  his  little  heart  was  ready  to 
burst  without  it. 

3.  It  was  a by 
walked  to  and  fro 
one  person  and  then  at  another,  as  they  passed  him ; but 

^ no  one  seemed  to  look  kindly  on  him,  and  the  longer  he 
waited,  the  faster  his  courage  dwindled  away.  The 
tears  were  running  fast  down  his  cheeks,  but  nobody 
seemed  to  care ; for  although  clean,  Henry  looked  poor 
and  ^miserable,  and  it  is  common  for  the  poor  and  mis- 
erable to  cry. 


-street  in  Philadelphia,  and 
on  the  sidewalk,  he  lookec^^ftrst  ^ 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


41 


4.  Kvory  body  seemed  in  a hurry,  and  the  poor  bo}^ 
was  quite  in  ‘♦'despair,  when  at  last  he  espied  a gentle- 
man who  seemed  to  be  very  '♦'leisurely  taking  a morning 
walk.  He  was  dressed  in  black,  wore  a three-cornered 
hat,  and  had  a j^leasant  '♦'countenance.  When  Henry 
looked  at  him,  he  felt  all  his  fears  '♦'vanish  at  once,  and 
instantly  approached  him. 

5.  His  tears  had  been  flowing  so  long,  that  his  eyes 
were  quite  red  and  swollen,  and  his  voice  trembled;  but 
that  was  with  weakness,  for  he  had  not  eaten  for 
twenty-four  hours.  As  Henry,  with  a low  faltering 
voice,  begged  for  a little  ‘♦'charity,  the  gentleman 
stopped;  and  his  kind  heart  melted  with  '♦'compassion, 
as  he  looked  into  the  fair  countenance  of  the  poor  boy, 
and  saw  the  deep  '♦'blush  which  spread  over  his  face,  and 
listened  to  the  modest,  humble  tones,  which  '♦'accompa- 
nied his  '♦'petition. 

6.  “You  do  not  look  like  a boy  who  has  been  '♦'accus- 
tomed to  beg  his  bread,”  said  he,  laying  his  hand  kindly 
on  the  boy’s  shoulder;  “what  has  driven  you  to  this 
step?” 

7.  “Indeed,”  answered  Henry,  his  tears  beginning  to 
flow  afresh,  “indeed,  I was  not  born  in  this  condition. 
But  the  misfortunes  of  my  father,  and  the  sickness  of 
my  mother,  have  driven  me  to  this  step.” 

8.  “Who  is  your  father?”  inquired  the  gentleman, 
still  more  '♦'interested. 

9.  “My  father  was  a rich  merchant  of  this  city;  but 
he  became  bondsman  for  a friend,  who  soon  after  '♦'failed, 
and  he  was  entirely  ruined.  He  could  not  live  long 
after  this  loss,  and  in  one  month  died  of  '♦'grief;  and  his 
death  was  more  dreadful  than  any  of  our  troubles.  My 
mother,  my  little  brother,  and  myself,  soon  sunk  into 
the  lowest  depths  of  poverty. 

10.  “My  mother  has,  until  now,  '♦'managed  to  support 
herself  and  my  little  brother  by  her  labor,  and  I have 
earned  what  I could,  by  shoveling  snow  and  other  work 
that  I could  And  to  do.  But,  night  before  last,  she  was 
taken  very  sick,  and  has  since  become  so  much  worse, 


42 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


that  I fear  she  will  die.  I can  not  think  of  any  way  to 
help  her. 

11.  “I  have  had  no  work  for  several  weeks.  I have 
not  had  the  courage  to  go  to  any  of  my  mother’s  old 
■’’acquaintances,  and  tell  them  that  she  has  come  to  need 
charity.  I thought  you  looked  like  a stranger,  sir,  and 
something  in  your  face  overcame  my  shame,  and  gave 
me  courage  to  speak  to  you.  Oh,  sir,  do  pity  my  pool 
mother.” 

12.  The  tears,  and  the  simple,  moving  language  of  the 
poor  boy,  touched  a chord  in  the  breast  of  the  stranger, 
which  was  accustomed  to  frequent  vibrations. 

13.  “Where  does  your  mother  live,  my  boy?”  said  he 
in  a husky  voice:  “is  it  far  from  here?” 

14.  “She  lives  in  the  last  house  on  this  street,  sir,” 
replied  Henry.  “You  can  see  it  from  here  in  the  third 
block,  and  on  the  left  hand  side.” 

15.  “Have  you  sent  for  a ‘’’physician ?” 

16.  “Ho,  sir,”  said  the  boy,  “I  had  no  money,  to  pay 
either  for  a physician  or  for  ’’’medicine.” 

17.  “Here,”  said  the  stranger,  drawing  some  pieces  of 
money  from  his  pocket — “here  are  three  dollars;  take 
them  and  run  immediately  for  a physician.” 

18.  Henry’s  eyes  flashed  with  ’’’gratitude;  he  received 
the  money  with  a ’’’stammering  and  almost  inaudible 
voice;  but  with  a look  of  the  warmest  gratitude  he  van- 
ished. 

'19.  The  ’’’benevolent  stranger  instantly  sought  the 
dwelling  of  the  sick  widow.  He  entered  a little  room, 
in  which  he  could  see  nothing  but  a few  implements  of 
female  labor,  a miserable  table,  an  old  ’’’bureau,  and  a 
little  bed  which  stood  in  one  corner,  on  which  the  inva- 
lid lay.  She  appeared  weak,  and  almost  ’’’exhausted; 
and  on  the  bed,  at  her  feet,  sat  a little  boy,  crying  as  if 
his  heart  would  break. 

20.  Deeply  moved  at  this  sight,  the  stranger  drew 
near  the  bedside  of  the  invalid,  and,  ’’’feigning  to  be  a 
physieian,  inquired  into  the  nature  of  her  ’’’disease.  The 
symptoms  were  explained  in  a few  words,  when  the 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


43 


widow,  with  a deep  sigh,  added,  “ Oh,  my  sickness  has  a 
dee2)er  cause,  and  one  which  is  beyond  the  art  of  the 
physician  to  cure. 

21.  “I  am  a mother,  a wretched  mother.  I see  my 

children  sinking  daily  deeper  and  deeper  in  want,  whieh 
I have  no  means  of  relieving.  My  sickness  is  of  the 
heart,  and  nothing  but  death  can  rid  my  sorrows.  But 
even  death  is  dreadful  to  me,  for  it  awakens  the  thought 
of  the  misery  into  which  my  children  would  be  plunged 
if ” 

22.  Here  '^emotion  checked  her  ■^'utterance,  and  the 
tears  flowed  ^unrestrained  dov/n  her  cheeks.  But  the 
pretended  physician  spoke  so  consolingly  to  her,  and 
■^manifested  so  warm  a '^sympathy  for  her  condition, 
that  the  heart  of  the  poor  woman  '^'throbbed  with  a 
pleasure  that  was  unwonted. 

23.  “Do  not  despair,”  said  the  stranger,  “think  only 
of  recovery,  and  of  preserving  a life  that  is  so  precious 
to  your  children.  Can -4  write  a prescription  here?” 

24.  The  poor  widow  took  a little  prayer  book  from 
the  hands  of  the  child  who  sat  with  her  on  the  bed,  and, 
tearing  out  a blank  leaf,  “ I have  no  other,”  said  she, 
“ but  perhaps  this  will  do.” 

25.  The  stranger  took  a pencil  from  his  pocket,  and 
wrote  a few  lines  uj)on  the  paper. 

26.  “This  prescription,”  said  he,  “you  will  find  of 
great  service  to  you.  If  it  is  necessary,  I .will  write  yon 
a second.  I have  great  hopes  of  your  recovery.” 

27.  He  laid  the  paper  on  the  table,  and  departed. 
Scarcely  was  he  gone,  when  the  elder  son  returned. 

28.  “ Cheer  up,  dear  mother,”  said  he,  “going  up  and 
■’'affectionately  kissing  her.  “ See  what  a kind,  benevo- 
lent stranger  has  given  us.  It  will  make  us  rich  for 
several  days.  It  has  ’’'enabled  us  to  have  a physician, 
and  he  wiW  be  here  in  a moment.  ’’'Compose  yourself, 
now,  dear  mother,  and  take  courage.” 

29.  “Come  nearer,  my  son,”  answered  the  mother, 
looking  with  pride  and  affection  on  her  child.  “ Como 
nearer,  that  I may  bless  you.  God  never  forsakes  the 


44 


N E W FI  F T ii  READER. 


innocent,  and  the  good.  Oh,  may  He  watch  over  you  in 
ail  your  paths!  A physician  has  just  been  here.  He 
was  a stranger,  but  he  spoke  to  me  witli  a kindness 
that  was  +balni  to  my  heart.  He  left  that  prescription 
on  the  table.  See  if  you  can  read  it.” 

30.  Henry  glanced  at  the  paper  and  started  back.  He 
took  it  up,  and  as  he  read  it  through  again  and  again,  a 

" cry  of  wonder  and  astonishment  escaped  him. 

31.  “What  is  it^,  my  son^?”  exclaimed  the  poor 
widow,  trembling  with  an  ’^apprehension — of  she  knew 
not — what. 

32.  “ Ah,  read,  dear  mother  ! God  has  heard  us.” 

33.  The  mother  took  the  paper  froni  the  hand  of  her 
son,  but  no  sooner  had  she  fixed  her  eyes  upon  it,  than 
she  exclaimed,  “ It  is  Washington  1”  and  fell  back  faint- 
ing on  her  pillow. 

34.  The  writing  was  an  obligation  from  Washington^ 
— for  it  was  indeed  he^ — ^by  which  the  widow  was  to 
receive  the  sum  of  one  hundred  dollars  from  his  own 
private  *^property,  to  be  doubled  in  case  of  necessity. 

35.  Meanwhile,  the  expected  physician  made  his  ap- 
pearance, and  soon  awoke  the  mother  from  her  fainting 
fit.  The  joyful  "^surprise,  together  wfith  a good  nurse, 
with  which  the  physician  supplied  her,  and  a plenty  of  ^ 
wholesome  food^,  soon  restored  her  to  perfect  health^. 

36.  The  Hnfluence  of  Washington,  who  visited  them 
more  than  once,  provided  for  the  widow  friends,  who 
furnished  her  with  constant  employment ; and  her  sons, 
when  they  arrived  at  the  proper  age,  were  placed  in 
Hespectable  situations,  where  they  were  able  to  support 
themselves,  and  *^render  the  remainder  of  their  mother’s 
life  comfortable  and  happy. 

37.  Let  the  children  who  read  this  story,  remember, 
when  they  think  of  the  great  and  good  Washington,  that 
he  was  not  above  entering  the  dwelling  of  poverty,  and 
carrying  joy  and  gladness  to  the  hearts  of  its  ‘^inmates. 

Questions. — What  did  the  hoy  attempt  to  do?  What  success  did 
he  have?  What  did  the  man,  whom  he  met,  say  and  do?  Whom  did 
it  prove  to  he?  What  should  his  example  teach  us? 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


45 


EXERCISE  II.— ARTICULATION. 

O’  Let  the  teacher  select  the  difficult  words  foi  the  pupil  to  spell 
by  their  elements. 

Articulate  distinctly  the  difficult  sounds.  Earth  that  en- 
iomb’st  all  my  heart  holds  dear.  Mis  attempts  were /a^7/^less.  Hold 
off  your  hands,  gentlemen.  The  sounds  of  horses^  hoofs  were  heard. 
What  wanfst  thou  here?  It  was  wrenched  by  the  hand  of  violence. 
Their  singed  tops,  though  bare,  vnll  stand.  The  strength  of  his 
nostrils  is  terrible.  A gentle  current  rippled  by.  He  barb’d  the 
dart.  How  do  you  like  hey'bs  in  your  broth  f 


LESSON  IV.  y 


1.  Tem^-ple;  n.  a church. 

2.  Shel^-ter-ing  ; v.  protecting. 

2.  Rest^-less  ; adj.  not  quiet. 

3.  E-ven-tide^;  n.  evening. 


4.  Striv^-en;  v.  contended  against. 

5.  Dis-tress^;  n.  misery. 

6.  Pen^-i-tence;  n.  sorrow,  [wings. 
6.  Brood^-ing  ; v.  covering  with 


TIRED  OF  PLAY. 

Pronounce  correctly  the  following  words  in  this  lesson.  Do  not 
say  creep-in  for  creep-ing ; shelter-in  for  shelter-ing ; brood-m  for 
brood-ing ; sing-in  for  sing-ing ; res-less  for  rest-less  ; fauls  for 
faults  ; coulds  for  couldst;  cre-tur  for  creat-ure  {pr.  cr6af-yur). 

1.  Tired  of  play!  tired  of  play! 

What  hast  thou  done  this  Hive-long  day^? 

The  birds  are  silent,  and  so  is  the  bee; 

The  sun  is  creeping  up  temple  and  tree ; 

2.  The  doves  have  flown  to  the  sheltering  eaves, 

And  the  nests  are  dark  with  the  ^drooping  leaves. 
Twilight  gathers  and  day  is  done, 

How  hast  thou  spent  it,  restless  one^? 

3.  Playing^?  But  what  hash  thou  done  beside, 

To  tell  thy  mother  at  eventide^? 

What  promise  of  morn  is  left  unbroken  ? 

What  kind  word  to  thy  ’^play-mate  spoken^  ? 


46  NEW  FIFTH  READER. 

4.  Whom  hast  thou  pitied  and  whom  forgiven? 

How  with  thy  faults  has  duty  striven? 

What  hast  thou  learned  by  field  and  hill? 

By  "^green-wood  path,  and  singing  rill^  ? 

5.  Well  for  thee  if  thou  couldst  tell 

A tale  like  this  of  a day  spent  well, 

If  thy  kind  hand  has  aided  distress, 

And  thou  pity  hast  felt  for  "‘'wretchedness^; 

6.  If  thou  hast  forgiven  a brother’s  "‘"offense, 

And  grieved  for  thine  own  with  penitence ; 

If  every  creature  has  won  thy  love, 

From  the  creeping  worm  to  the  brooding  dove. 
Then  with  joy  and  peace  on  the  bed  of  rest 
Thou  wilt  sleep  as  on  thy  mother’s  breast^. 

Questions. — What  is  meant  by  the  expression,  “The  sun  is  creep- 
ing up  temple  and  tree”?  How  had  the  day  been  spent?  How 
ought  our  days  to  be  spent  that  we  may  feel  peace  and  happiness  at 
their  close?  What  inflection  should  “playing”  receive  in  the  3d 
stanza  ? Why  ? 


LESSON^Vcf" 


2.  CoN^'-scious-NESs;  n.  feeling 
knowledge. 

2.  Ve^-hi-cle;  n.  a carriage. 

7.  Plaid;  n.  a kind  of  cloak. 


10.  Ap-peals'  ; n.  call  for  aid. 

10.  Hu-man^-i-ty;  n.  kindness. 

11.  In^-ci-dent;  n.  occurrence. 
13.  In-di-ca^-ted  ; v.  showed. 


THE  ORPHAN. 

Pronounce  correctly  the  following  words  in  this  lesson.  Do  not 
say  coach-mun  for  coach-man ; im-pleas-unt  for  un-pleas-ant ; 
silunced  for  si-knced;  henevolunt  for  be-nev-o-knt;  intemp^runce 
for  in-tem-pe-rance  ; ignorunce  for  ig-no-rance ; recullect  for  rec- 
ol-lect ; supprised  for  sur-prised ; drounded  for  drowned. 

1.  On  a dark,  cold  night,  in  the  middle  of  November,/ 
as  Mr.  Lawrence  was  traveling  iu  a stage  coach  from 
London  to  Morwich,  he  was  roused  from  a sound  sleep, 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


47 


at  the  end  of  the  stage,  by  the  coaclfman’s  opening  the 
door  of  the  carriage,  and  begging  leave  to  look  for  a 
parcel  which  was  in  the  box  under  Mr.  Lawrence’s  seat. 

2.  The  opening  of  the  door  admitted  a violent  gust  of 
wind  and  rain,  which  was  very  unpleasant  to  the  feel- 
ing of  the  sleeping  ^passengers,  and  roused  them  to  a 
consciousness  of  the  ***situation  of  those  who  were  on  the 
outside  of  the  vehicle. 

3.  hope,  coachman,  you  have  a good  thick  coat  on, 
to  guard  you  against  the  cold  and  wet,”  said  Mr.  Law- 
rence. have  a very  good  one,  sir,”  replied  the  man, 
“but  I have  lent  it  to  a poor  little  girl  we  have  on  the 
top ; for  my  heart  bled  for  her^  poor  thing,  she  had  so 
little  clothing  to  keep  her  warm.” 

4.  “A  child  exposed  on  the  outside  of  the  coach,  on 
such  a night  as  this!”  exclaimed  Mr.  Lawrence.  “lam 
sure  it  would  be  very  wrong  in  us  to  let  her  stay  there. 
Do  let  us  have  her  in  ^immediately.  It  is  quite  ‘^'shock- 
ing  to  think  of  her  being  in  such  a situation.” 

5.  “ Oh,  no,”  cried  a gentleman  opposite,  “we  can  do 
nothing  with  her.  It  is  quite  out  of  the  question.  The 
coach  is  already  full,  and  she  will  be  so  wet,  that  we 
might  as  well  be  on  the  outside  ourselves,  as  sit  near  her. 
Beside,  she  is  a poor  child,  in  charge  of  the  master  of  a 
workhouse,  and  one  does  not  know  what  she  may  have 
about  her.” 

6.  “Why,  as  to  that,  sir,”  replied  the  coachman,  “I  be- 
lieve she  is  as  clean  as  any  child  needs  to  be,  though  she 
is  rather  tdelicate  looking,  poor  thing!  But  she  is  a fine 
little  creature,  and  deserves  better  fare  than  she  is  likely 
to  get  where  she  is  going.” 

7.  “Let  her  come  in,  at  any  rate,”  said  Mr.  Lawrence, 
“for  poor  or  rich,  she  is  equally  '^sensible  to  cold,  and 
no'  one,  I am  sure,  who  has  a child  of  his  own,  can  bear 
the'  idea  of  her  being  so  exposed.  And  as  to  her  being 
wet,  I will  wrap  her  in  my  plaid,  and  take  her  on  my 
knee,  so  that  no  one  can  feel  any  '^'inconvenience  from  it.” 

8.  This  silenced  the  gentleman’s  '^objections;  and  the 
rest  of  the  company  agreeing  to  it,  the  coachman  was 


48 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


desired  to  bring  the  child  in,  which  he  gladly  did,  and 
the  dry  plaid  being  rolled  about  her,  Mr.  Lawrence  took 
her  upon  his  knee,  and  j)utting  his  arm  around  her, 
clasped  her  with  ‘^benevolence  and  self-satisfaction  to  his 
breast.  “I  am  afraid  you  are  very  cold,  my  poor  little 
girl,”  said  he. 

9.  was  very  cold,  indeed,  till  the  coachman  was  so 
good  to  me  as  to  let  me  have  his  coat,”  replied  she,  in  a 
very  sweet  and  cheerful  voice;  “but  you  have  made  me 
warmer  still,”  she  added,  and  as  she  spoke,  she  laid  her 
head  against  the  breast  of  her  benevolent  friend,  and 
was  asleep  in  a few  minutes. 

10.  “The  coachman  showed  a great  deal  of  '^'concern 
for  her,”  said  one  of  the  passenger^  “I  could  hardly 
have  expected  so  much  feeling  in  the  driver  of  a stago. 
coach.”  “I  believe  there  is  much  more  hum^ity  among 
the  lower  classes  of  people,  than  is  generally  supposed,” 
said  Mr.  Lawrence,  “for  we  seldom  meet  with  one  who 
is  deaf  to  the  appeals  of  childli^d  or  *^helples^iess.” 

11.  His  companion  was  too  sleepy  to  dispute  the 
point,  and  the  whole  party  soon  sunk  into  the  same 
state  of  torpor,  from  which  this  little  incident  had 
roused  them,  and  from  which  they  were  only  '^occasion- 
ally disturbed  by  the  changing  of  horses,  or  the  coach- 
man’s ■^‘application  for  their  ‘^'usual  fee,  till  the  full  dawn 
of  day  induced  them  to  shake  off  their  ‘^drowsiness. 

12.  When  Mr.  Lawrence  awoke,  he  found  that  his 
little  companion  was  still  in  a deep  sleep,  and  he 
thought,  with  satisfaction,  of  the  sound  rest  he  had  pro- 
cured for  her,  with  only  a very  little  '^inconvenience  to 
himself.  He  was  glad,  too,  that  he  had  interested  him- 
self for  her  before  he  saw  her;  for  had  he  seen  the 
■^'prepossessing  face  which  he  then  beheld,  he  might  have 
suspected  that  his  ‘^'interference  had  been  prompted  by 
her  beauty  as  much  as  by  her  distress. 

13.  She  was  of  a fair  complexion  and  regular  features  ; 
but  Mri  Lawrence  was  particularly  interested  in  her 
sensible  and  expressive  countenance,  which  indicated 
extreme  sweetiiess  of  disposition.  “What  a pity,” 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


49 


thought  he,  as  he  looked  at  her,  ‘^that  so  promising  a 
little  creature  should  be  confined  to  the  ^charity  of  a 
poor  house,  and  there  reared  in  vice  and  ignorance ! ” 

14.  As  these  thoughts  passed  across  his  mind,  the  little 
girl  awoke,  and  looked  around  her,  as  if  at  a loss  to 
know  where  she  was ; but,  at  the  next  moment,  seeming 
to  '^'recollect  herself,  and  looking  in  Mr.  Lawrence’s  face, 
she  returned  his  kindness  by  a smile  of  satisfaction. 
“Have  you  had  a good  sleep,  my  dear?”  asked  he, 
kindly.  “Yes,  sir,  I have  been  sleeping  very  soundly, 
and  I thought  I was  at  home.” 

15.  “Where  is  your  home?”  asked  Mr.  Lawrence. 
“I  call  where  my  Aunt  Mary  used  to  live  my  home.” 
“And  where  did  your  Aunt  Mary  live?”  “I  do  not 
know  what  they  called  the  place,  but  it  was  at  the  end 
of  a long  lane,  and  there  was  a pretty  garden  before  the 
house.  It  was  such  a nice  place ; I am  sure  you  would 
like  it  if  you  saw  it.” 

16.  “ Do  you  know  the  name  of  the  place  ? ” “ Ho,  sir, 
I do  not  know  what  they  call  it ; only  that  it  was  Aunt 
Mary’s  house,  and  it  was  near  the  large  town  they  call 
Essex,  where  my  father  lived,  and  where  there  were  a 
great  many  ships,  and  a large  river.” 

17.  Surprised  at  the  easy  and  correct  manner  in  which 
this  little  girl,  who  bore  marks  of  nothing  but  the  great- 
est poverty,  expressed  herself,  Mr.  Lawrence’s  "^curiosity 
was  greatly  excited,  and  feeling  much  interested  respect- 
ing her,  he  asked  her  name. 

18.  “ My  Aunt  Mary  used  to  call  me  Fanny  Edwards,” 
replied  she,  “ but  my  new  mother  told  me  I must  say  my 
name  is  Peggy  Short,  but  I do  not  like  that  name.” 

19.  “ Why  did  she  tell  you  to  call  yourself  by  that 
name?”  asked  Mr.  Lawrence.  “I  can  not  tell  you,  sir, 
for  she  used  to  call  me  Fanny  herself  till  she  took  me  to 
the  large  town  that  we  came  to  yesterday;  and  then 
she  called  me  Peggy,  and  said  I must  call  myself  so.” 

20.  “ Where  is  your  Aunt  Mary  now  ? And  your  new 
mother,  as  you  call  her,  where  is  she  gone?  ” 

21.  “My  Aunt  Mary  went  away  a long  time  since. 

.5th  *R.— .5 


50 


NEW  FIFTH  READ-EK. 


She  said  she  was  forced  to  go  to  a lady  who  was  ill,  that 
had  been  very  kind  to  her ; but  she  would  come  back  to 
me  soon,  and  then  I should  live  with  her  again,  and  that 
I must  love  her  till  she  came  back,  and  I have  loved  her 
all  this  time  very  dearly,  but  she  has  never  come  again.” 
As  the  child  said  this,  her  little  heart  swelled,  and  her 
eyes  filled  with  tears. 

22.  Where  did  you  go  when  she  left  you  ? ” ‘^inquired 
Mr.  Lawrence.  “I  went  to  live  with  my  father;  for  I 
had  a new  mother,  my  Aunt  Mary  said,  who  would  take 
care  of  me.  But  my  father  went  away  in  a ship,  and  my 
new  mother  said  he  was  drowned  in  the  sea,  and  would 
never  come  back  again  ; and  then  she  was  not  very  kind 
to  me ; not  so  very  kind  as  my  Aunt  Mary  used  to  be ; 
for  my  Aunt  Mary  never  beat  me,  but  used  to  take  me 
upon  her  knee,  and  tell  me  pretty  stories,  and  teach  me 
the  way  to  read  them  myself,  that  1 might  learn  to  be  a 
useful  woman ; and  used  to  kiss  me,  and  say  she  loved 
me  very  dearly  when  I was  a good  girl.” 

23.  “And  I hope  you  were  always  a good  girl,”  said 
Mr.  Lawrence,  patting  her  cheek.  “No,  sir,”  said  she, 
“ I was  not  always  good,  for  once  I told  a story,  and  my 
Aunt  Mary  did  not  love  me  for  a great  many  days,  and 
I was  very  unhappy.”  “ That  was  indeed  bad,  but  you 
will  never  tell  another  story,  I trust.” 

24.  “I  hope  not,”  said  the  child '^'modestly ; and  Mr. 
Lawrence,  '^desirous  of  knowing  something  more  of  her 
history,  asked  her  again  what  had  become  of  her  mother. 
“ I do  not  know  what  has  become  of  her,  but  I am  afraid 
she  has  lost  herself,  foi*  when  we  got  to  the  large  town, 
she  told  me  to  sit  down  upon  a door  step,  until  she  came 
back  to  me.  I sat  a very  long  time,  till  it  was  quite 
dark,  and  I was  very  cold  and  hungry,  and  she  never 
came  to  me,  and  I could  not  help  crying.  The  lady  that 
lived  in  the  house  heard  me,  asked  me  what  was  the 
matter;  and  when  I told  her,  she  took  me  into  the 
kitchen,  and  gave  me  something  to  eat,  and  was  very 
kind  to  me.” 

25.  At  this  simple  ‘^narrative,  the  passengers  were  all 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


51 


much  affected.  Even  the  gentleman  who  had  first  '‘’op- 
posed her  coming  into  the  coach,  rubbed  his  hand 
across  his  eyes  and  said,  “Poor  thing,  poor  thing,”  wliile 
Mr.  Lam’ence  pressed  her  more  closely  toward  him,  and 
rejoiced  that  Providence  had  thrown  in  his  way,  this 
sweet  little  girl,  whom  he  resolved  to  adopt  and  add  to 
his  own  hapjly  family. 

Questions. — What  were  the  circumstances  which  led  Mr.  Lawrence 
to  become  interested  with  the  orphan  ? Relate  her  story  as  she  told 
it  to  him.  What  did  he  do  for  her? 


EXERCISE  III. 

They  reefed  the  topsails.  No  dangers  fright  him.  He  quenched 
a flame.  She  laughs  at  him.  A frame  of  adamant.  She  begged 
pardon.  Thou  look^st  from  thy  throne  in  the  clouds,  and  laugh^st 
at  the  storm.  The  glowworm  lights  her  lamp.  The  table  groans 
beneath  its  burden.  All  clothed  in  rags  an  infant  lay. 


LESSON 

1.  Hale;  adj.  healthy,  robust.  | 3.  Man^-tle-tree  ; n.  shelf  over 
8.  Plod''-ded  ; v.  went  slowly.  | a fire  place. 


THE  GRANDFATHER. 

Pronounce  the  following  words  in  this  lesson  correctly.  Ho 
not  say  for  smo-kin^;  clearin  for  clear-in^  ; ketchin  for 

catch-mg  ; iurnin  ior  ixLYn-mg ; for  spin-nin^. 

1.  The  fa^er  sat  in  his  ea^  chair 

Smoking  his  pipe  of  clay. 

While  his  hale  old  wife  with  busy  care, 

Was  clearing  the  dinner  away  ; 

A sweet  little  girl  with  fine  blue  eyes. 

On  her  gra^father’s  knee,  was  catching  flies, 

2.  The  old  man  laid  his  hand  on  her  head. 

With  a tear  on  his  wrinkled  face. 

He  thought  how  often  her  mother  dead, 

Had  sat  in  the  self  same  place  ; 


JNJ^W  FIFTH  READER. 


As  the  tear  stole  down  from  his  half  shut,  eye, 

“ Don’t  smoke !”  said  the  child,  “ how  it  makes  you  cry  I’* 

3.  The  house  dog  lay,  stretched  out  on  the  floor. 

Where  the  shade,  aftern/'ons,,  used  to  steal; 

The  busy  old  wife  by  the  v^pen  door 
Was  turning  the  spinning  wheel. 

And  the  old  brass  clock  on  t?je  mantletree. 

Had  plodded  along  to  almost  three. 

4.  Still  the  farmer  sat  in  his  easy  chair. 

While  close  to  his  heaving  breast. 

The  moistened  brow  and  the  cheek  so  fair 
Of  his  sweet  grandchild  were  pressed ; 

His  head  bent  down,  on  her  soft  hair  lay; 

Fast  asleep  were  they  both  on  that  summer  day. 

Questions. — Tell  the  story  of  the  farmer  and  his  sweet  grandcliild 
as  related  in  the  above  verses. 

What  noun  in  the  last  line  ? What  pronoun  ? What  verb  ? What 
adjectives  ? What  adverb  ? What  preposition  ? 

To  Teachers. — The  grammatical  questions  introduced  at  the  close 
of  the  reading  lessons,  will  be  found  to  add  interest  and  value  to  the 
exercise  of  reading.  They  should  by  no  means  be  neglected,  but  may 
be  varied  or  increased  at  the  discretion  of  the  teacher. 


EXERCISE  IV. 

It  was  a species  of  calx,  wliicli  he  showed  me. 

The  word  filcli  is  of  doubtful  derivation. 

If  thou  falVst,  thou  falVst  a blessed  martyr. 

Health  is  indispensable  to  the  soldier. 

Those  who  lie  entomb’d  in  the  cemetery. 

The  attempt  and  not  the  deed,  confounds  us. 

But  truth,  and  liberty,  and  virtue,  would  fall  with  him. 
The  song  began  from  Jove. 

Do  you  meanpZam  ov  playing  f 
I quench  thee,  thou  flaming  ^r^brand. 

A frame  of  adamant,  and  strength  of  Hercules, 

The  hills,  and  halls,  and  hulls. 

The  ranges,  and  changes,  and  hinges,  and  fringes 
Spasms,  and  prisms,  and  chasms,  and  phasms. 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


53 


LESSON  VII./ 


2.  Dis-cov^-ered  ; v.  found  out. 

2.  TTn^-y  ; adj.  very  small. 

3,  CoM-PO^-SER  ; n.  an  author. 

3.  Or^-ches-tra;  n.  a body  of 
musicians. 

3.  CoM-PO-si^-TiONS;  n.  musical 
^ pieces. 


6.  Rap^-tures  ; n.  extreme  de- 
^ light.  V 

8.  Chat^-ting  ; v.  talking  famil- 
iarly. 

10.  De-ject^-ed  ; v.  discouraged, 
^ low-spirited. 

10.  Strewn  ; v.  scattered. 


(TT  It  will  be  recollected,  that  those  definitions  only  arQ  given, 
which  are  appropriate  in  the  connection  in  which  the  word  is  used. 


LITTLE  VICTORIES. 

Remark. — In  conversational  pieces  like  the  following,  the  manner 
of  each  speaker  should  be  imitated,  as  in  a dialogue. 

Articulate  the  letter  cZ.  Do  not  say  row?!  for  rouncZ;  founiov 
founc^;  for  mine?;  mile  iov  m.i\d  ; Aw  ?i-rec?5  for  hun-eZreds ; 

han  for  hanc? ; tole  for  tole? ; an  for  anc? ; fon  for  foneZ ; a^sJiame 
for  a-sham'eZ. 

Articulate  the  L Do  not  say  loss  for  losZ;  hnrs  for  burs?* 
ywi-s  for  jus?;  ^rea?-e5  for  great-es?;  ?owc?-e5  for  loud-es?. 

1.  “ Oh,  mother,  now  that  I have  lost  my  limb,  I can 
never  be  a soldier  or  a sailor;  I can  never  go  round  the 
world!”  And  Hugh  burst  into  tears,  now  more  really 
'^afflicted  than  he  had  ever  been  yet.  His  mother  sat  on 
the  bed  beside  him,  and  wiped  away  his  tears  as  they 
flowed,  while  he  told  her,  as  well  as  his  sobs  would  let 
him,  how  long  and  how  much  ho  had  reckoned  on  going 
round  the  world,  and  how  little  he  cared  for  any  thing 
else  in  future;  and  now  this  was  the  very  thing  he 
should  never  be  able  to  do  ! 

2.  He  had  practiced  climbing  ever  since  he  could 
remember,  and  now  this  was  of  no  use ; he  had  '*'prac- 
ticed  marching,  and  now  he  should  never  march  again. 
When  he  had  finished  his  comj)laint,  there  was  a pause, 
and  his  mother  said, 

“ Hugh,  you  have  heard  of  Huber.” 


54 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


“ The  man  who  found  out  so  much  about  bees?”  said 
Hugh. 

“ Bees  and  ants.  When  Huber  had  discovered  more 
than  had  ever  been  known  about  these,  and  when  he 
was  sure  that  he  could  learn  still  more,  and  was  more 
and  more  anxious  to  peep  into  their  tiny  homes,  and 
curious  ways,  he  became  blind.”  , 

3.  Hugh  sighed,  and  his  mother  went  on. 

“ Did  you  ever  hear  of  Beethoven  ? He  was  one  of 
the  greatest  '‘'musical  composers  that  ever  lived.  His 
great,  his  sole  delight,  was  in  music.  It  was  the  passion 
of  his  life.  When  all  his  time  and  all  his  mind  were 
given  to  music,  he  suddenly  became  deaf,  perfectly  deaf ; 
so  that  he  never  more  heard  one  single  note  from  the 
loudest  orchestra.  While  crowds  were  moved  and  de- 
lighted with  his  compositions,  it  was  ail  silence  to  him.” 
Hugh  said  nothing. 

4.  ‘^Now  do  you  think,”  asked  his  mother — and  Hugh 
saw  that  a mild  and  gentle  smile  '‘'beamed  from  her 
countenance — “do  you  think  that  these  people  were 
without  a heavenly  Parent?” 

“Oh  no!  but  were  they  patient?”  asked  Hugh. 

“Yes,  in  their  different  ways  and  '‘'degrees.  Would 
you  suppose,  that  they  were  hardly  treated  ? Or  would 
you  not  rather  suppose,  that  their  Father  gave  them 
something  better  to  do,  than  they  had  planned  for  them- 
selves?” 

5.  “He  must  know  best,  of  course;  but  it  does  seem 
rery  hard,  that  that  very  thing  should  happen  to  them. 
Huber  would  not  have  so  much  minded  being  deaf,  per- 
haps; or  that  musical  man  being  blind.” 

“No  doubt  their  hearts  often  swelled  within  them,  at 
their  '‘'disappointments ; but  I fully  believe  that  they 
very  soon  found  God’s  will  to  be  wiser  than  their  wishes. 
They  found,  if  they  bore  their  trial  well,  that  there  was 
Vvmrk  for  their  hearts  to  do,  far  nobler  than  ,any  the 
head  could  do  through  the  eye,  or  the  ear.  And  they 
soon  felt  a new  and  delicious  pleasure,  which  none  but 
the  bitterly  disappointed  can  feel.’^ 

“What  is  that?” 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


55 


6.  “The  pleasure  of  rousing  the  soul  to  bear  pain,  and 
of  agreeing  with  God  silently,  when  nobody  knows  what 
is  in  the  breast.  There  is  no  pleasure  like  that  of  ^exer- 
cising one’s  soul  in  bearing,  pain,  and  of  finding  one’s 
heart  glow  with  the  hope  that  one  is  pleasing  God.” 

“Shall  I feel  that  pleasure?” 

“Often  and  often,  I have  no  doubt:  every  time  you 
can  willingly  give  up  your  wish  to  be  a soldier,  or  a 
sailor,  or  any  thing  else  you  have  set  your  mind  upon, 
you  will  feel  that  pleasure.  But  I do  not  expect  it  of 
you  yet.  I dare  say,  it  was  long  a bitter  thing  to  Beet- 
hoven to  see  hundreds  of  people  in  raptures  with  his 
music,  when  he  could  not  hear  a note  of  it.” 

' 7.  “But  did  he  ever  smile  again?”  asked  Hugh. 

“If  he  did,  he  was  happier  than  all  the  fine  music  in 
the  world  could  have  made  him,”  replied  his  mother. 

“I  wonder,  oh,  I wonder  if  I shall  ever  feel  so!” 

“We  will  pray  to  God  that  you  may.  Shall  we  ask 
him  now?” 

Hugh  clasped  his  hands.  His  mother  kneeled  beside 
the  bed,  and,  in  a very  few  words,  prayed  that  Hugh 
might  be  able  to  bear  his  ‘‘'misfortune  well,  and  that  his 
friends  might  give  him  such  help  and  comfort  as  God 
should  approve. 

- — ' 8.  Hugh  found  himself  subject  to  very  painful  feelings 
sometimes,  such  as  no  one  quite  understood,  and  such  as 
he  feared  no  one  was  able  to  pity  as  they  deserved.  On 
one  ■‘‘occasion,  when  he  had  been  quite  merry  for  a while, 
and^iis  mother  and  sister  Agnes  were  chatting,  they 
thought  they  heard  a sob  from  the  sofa.  They  spoke  to 
Hugh,  and  found  that  Ije  was  indeed  crying  bitterly. 

“What  is  it,  my  dear,”  said  his  mother.  “Agnes, 
have  we  said  any  thing  that  could  hurt  his  feelings?” 

“Ho,  no,”  sobbed  Hugh.  “I  will  tell  you  presently.” 

9.  And  presently  he  told  them,  that  he  was  so  busy 
listening  to  what  they  said,  that  he  forgot  every  thing 
else,  when  he  felt  as  if  something  got  between  two  of 
his  toes ; ‘‘‘unconsciously  he  put  down  his  hand,  as  if  hia 
foot  was  there!  Nothing  could  be  plainer  than  the  feel- 
ing in  his  toes ; and,  then,  when  he  put  out  his  hand, 


5G 


NEW  FIFTH  READEU. 


j.iid  found  nothing,  it  was  so  terrible!  it  startled  him  so 
It  was  a comfort  to  find  that  his  mother  knew  about 
this.  She  came,  and  kneeled  by  his  sofa,  and  told  him 
that  many  persons  who  had  lost  a limb,  considered  this 
tlie  most  painful  thing  they  had  to  bear,  for  some  time; 
but  that,  though  the  feeling  would  return  occasionally 
through  life,  it  would  cease  to  be  painful. 

10.  Hugh  was  very  much  dejected,  and  when  he 
thought  of  the  months  and  years,  to  the  end  of  his  life, 
and  that  he  should  never  run  and  play,  and  never  be 
like  other  people,  he  almost  wished  that  he  was  dead. 

Agnes  thought  that  he  must  be  '^miserable  indeed,  if 
he  could  venture  to  say  this  to  his  mother.  She  glanced 
at  her  mother’s  face,  but  there  was  no  "^displeasure  there. 
On  the  contrary,  she  said  this  feeling  was  very  natural. 
She  had  felt  it  herself,  under  smaller  misfortunes  than 
Hugh’s;  but  she  had  found,  though  the  prospect  appears 
all  strewn  with  troubles,  that  they  come  singly,  and  are 
not  so  hard  to  bear,  after  all. 

11.  She  told  Hugh,  that  when  she  was  a little  girl,  she 
was  very  lazy,  fond  of  her  bed,  and  not  at  all  fond  of 
dressing  or  washing. 

“ Why,  mother  1 you?  ” exclairued  Hugh. 

“Yes;  that  was  the  sort  of  little  girl  I was.  Well,  i 
was  in  "‘‘despair,  one  day,  at  the  thought  that  I should 
have  to  wash  and  clean  my  teeth,  and  brush  my  hair, 
and  put  on  every  article  of  dress,  every  morning  as  long 
as  1 lived.” 

“ Did  you  tell  any  body  ? ” asked  Hugh. 

12.  “ Ho  ; I was  ashamed  to  do  that ; but  I remember 
1 cried.  You  see  how  it  Dims  out.  When  Ave  have  be- 
come "‘"accustomed  to  any  thing,  Ave  do  it  without  CA^er 
thinking  of  the  trouble,  and,  as  the  old  fable  tells  us,  the 
clock,  that  has  to  tick  so  many  millions  of  times,  has 
exactly  the  same  number  of  seconds  to  do  it  in.  So  Avdll 
you  find,  that  you  can  move  about  on  each  "‘"separate 
occasion,  as  you  wish,  and  practice  Avill  enable  you  to  do 
it  without  any  trouble  or  thought.” 

“ But  this  is  not  all,  nor  half  A^hat  I mean,”  said  Hugh 


ECLECTIC  SEUIES. 


57 


13.  “ IS'o,  my  dear,  nor  half  what  you  will  have  to  bear. 
You  resolved  to  bear  it  all  '’‘patiently,  I remember.  But 
what  is  it  you  dread  the  most?  ” 

“ Oh  ! all  manner  of  things.  I can  never  do  like  other 
people.” 

“Some  things,”  replied  his  mother.  “You  can  never 
play  cricket,  as  every  Crofton  boy  would  like  to  do. 
You  can  never  dance  at  your  sister’s  Christmas  parties.” 

14.  “Oh!  mamma!”  cried  Agnes,  with  tears  in  her 
eyes,  and  with  the  thought  in  her  mind,  that  it  was  cruel 
to  talk  so. 

“Go  on!  Go  on!”  cried  Hugh,  brightening.  “You 
know  what  I feel,  mother;  and  you  don’t  keep  telling 
me,  as  others  do,  and  even  sister  Agnes,  sometimes,  that 
it  will  not  '’'signify  much,  and  that  I shall  not  care,  and 
all  that ; making  out  that  it  is  no  misfortune,  hardly, 
when  I know  what  it  is,  and  they  do  n’t.  How  then,  go 
on,  mother  ! What  else  ? ” 

15.  “ There  will  be  little  checks  and  '’'mortifications 
■’'continually,  when  you  see  little  boys  leaping  over  this, 
and  climbing  that,  and  playing  at  the  other,  while  you 
must  stand  out,  and  can  only  look  on.  And  some  people 
will  pity  you,  in  a way  you  will  not  like  : and  some  may 
even  laugh  at  you.” 

“ Oh  mamma  ! ” exclaimed  Agnes. 

“ Well,  and  what  else?  ” said  Hugh. 

16.  “ Sooner  or  later,  you  will  have  to  follow  some  way 
of  life  determined  by  this  '’'accident,  instead  of  one  that 
you  would  have  liked  better.” 

“ VYell,  what  else?” 

“ I must  ask  you,  now.  I can  think  of  nothing  more  ; 
and  I hope  there  is  not  much  else;  for,  indeed,  I think 
here  is  quite  enough  for  a boy,  or  any  one  else,  to  bear.” 

“ I will  bear  it,  though  ; you  will  see.” 

17.  “ You  will  find  great  helps.  These  misfortunes,  of 
themselves  strengthen  one’s  mind.  They  have  some 
'’'advantages,  too.  You  will  be  a better  scholar  for  your 
lameness,  I have  no  doubt.  You  will  read  more  books, 
and  have  a mind  richer  in  thoughts.  You  will  be  more 


58 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


beloved  by  us  all,  and  you  yourself  will  love  G-od  more 
for  having  given  you  something  to  bear  for  his  sake. 
God  himself  will  help  you  to  bear  your  trials.  You  will 
conquer  your  troubles  one  by  one,  and  by  a ■‘‘succession 
of  LITTLE  ■‘‘VICTORIES,  will,  at  last,  completely  triumph 
over  all.” 

Questions. — What  was  the  matter  with  Hugh  ? What  plan  for  the 
future  did  this  misfortune  interfere  with  ? Whom  did  his  mother 
mention  as  having  been  similarly  situated  ? How  was  Huber  disap- 
pointed ? How  was  Beethoven  disappointed  ? From  whom  come  our 
disappointments  ? Are  they  intended  for  our  good  ? How  should  we 
feel  under  them?  How  did  Hugh’s  mother  comfort  him?  What  did 
Hugh  determine  to  do?  In  what  way  did  his  mother  think  that  his 
misfortune  would  be  an  advantage  to  him  ? 

In  the  last  sentence,  which  words  are  in  the  objective  case?  What 
two  verbs  are  in  the  future  tense  ? Which  are  the  pronouns  ? Which 
are  the  prepositions?  In  the  14th  paragraph,  what  interjection  is 
there?  Point  out  three  nouns  in  this  paragraph.  What  does  the 
word  noun  mean?  See  Pinneo’s  Primary  Grammar,  page  9,  Art.  2. 


EXERCISE  V. 

The  bricks  were  thoroughly^  dried.  Crack’d^  crinkUd  crayon. 
They  drank  of  the  purling  brook.  Grand  crags  arose  towering  on 
every  side. 


LESSON  VIII./ 


1.  Grieved  ; v.  given  pain  to. 

1.  Gusii^'-ing;  adj.  rushing  forth. 
1.  Re-lie VED^;  v.  freed  from  pain. 


2.  Spright^-ly;  adj.  lively. 

2.  De-cayed^;  v.  faded. 

3.  Be-tide^;  V.  may  happen  ta 


MY  MOTHER. 

Pronounce  the  following  words  in  this  lesson  correctly.  Do  not 
say  strayin  for  stray-inp';  prayhi  for  nray-in^;  gushin  for  gush- 
ing; whisperin  ^ov  whis-per-in^;  leanin  for  lean-in^;  meanin 
for  mean-in^;  sickniss  for  sick-ness. 

1 . Often  into  folly  f straying. 

Oh,  my  mother ! how  I’ve  grieved  her  I 
Oft  I’ve  heard  her  for  me  praying, 

Till  the  gushing  tears  relieved  her. 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


69 


And  she  gently  rose  and  smiled, 

Whispering,  “God  will  keep  my  child.’' 

2.  She  was  youthful  then,  and  sprightly, 

^ndly  on  mj  father  leaning. 

Sweet  she  spoke,  her  eyes  shone  "^brightly, 

And  her  words  were  full  of  meaning; 

Now,  an  Autumn  leaf  decayed, 

I,  perhaps,  have  made  it  "^fade. 

3.  But,  whatever  ills  betide  thee'^. 

Mother^,  in  them  all  I share^  ; 

In  thy  sickness  watch  beside  thee. 

And  beside  thee  kneel  in  prayer. 

Best  of  mothers^!  on  my  breast 
Lean  thy  head,  and  sink  to  rest. 

Questions. — What  does  the  writer  say  of  his  mother?  What  would 
he  do  to  repay  her  ? 


LESSON  IX. 9 


1.  In^'-tri-ca-cy;  n.  the  state  of 

being  entangled. 

2.  Ap-pre-iien^-sion;  n.  the  power 

of  thinking  and  understand- 
ing. 

3.  Va^-oant-ly;  adv.  without 

thinking  of  or  noticing. 


5.  As^-pen;  a species  of  poplar, 
whose  leaves  are  always  in 
* motion.  [appearance. 

9.  State^-li-ness;  n.  majestic 
9.  Domes;  n.  buildings,  houses. 
10.  Rev^-el-ry;  n.  noisy,  gayety, 
and  festivity. 


AN  END  OF  ALL  PERFECTION. 

Remark. — Be  careful  to  articulate  such  little  words  as  the,  of,  a,  in, 
from,  at,  hy,  and,  to,  with,  as,  for,  very  distinctly;  and  yet  not  dwell 
on  them  so  long  as  on  other  more  important  words. 

Articulate  distinctly  and  pronounce  correctly.  Do  not  say 
for  and;  for  of;  lifs  for  lifts;  dif^cult-y  for  dif-ft’-cul-ty ; 
liass  for  hasG’  heau-ti-f^l  for  beau-ti-ftd ; joy-f’ly,foY  joy-ftd-ly; 
va-r^a-hle  for  va-ri-a-ble ; Jiels  for  fields ; com-jplaince  for  com- 
plaints ; en  for  end ; duss  for  dust. 

1.  I HAVE  seen  man  in  the  glory  of  his  days,  and  the 
pride  of  his  strength.  He  was  built  like  the  tall  cedar 


GO. 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


that  lifts  its  head  above  the  forest  trees^  ; like  the  strong 
oak  that  strikes  its  root  deeply  into  the  earth^.  He 
feared  no  danger^;  he  felt  no  siekness^;  he  wondered 
that  any  should  groan  or  sigh  at  pain^.  His  mind  was 
vigorous,  like  his  body^",  he  was  '^perplexed  at  no  intri- 
cacy; he  was  daunted  at  no  difficulty^;  into  hidden 
things  he  searched^;  and  what  was  crooked  he  made 
straight^. 

2.  He  went  forth  fearlessly  upon  the  face  of  the 
mighty  deep;  he  '’'sul^^eyed  the  nations  of  the  earth; 
he  measured  the  distances  of  the  stars,  a^id  called  them 
by  their  names;  he  gloried  in  the  extent  of  his  know 
ledge,  in  the  vigor  of  his  understanding,  and  strove  to 
search  even  into  what  the  Almighty  had  concealed. 
And  when  I looked  on  him,  I said,  “What  a piece  of 
worji  is  man^ ! how  noble  in  reason^ ! how  infinite  in 
Hac^lties^  ! in  form  and  moving  how  express  and  admi 
rabie^ ! in  action  how  like  an  angel!  in  apprehension 
how  like  a God  1’^ 

3.  I returned;  his  look  was  no  more  lofty,  nor  his 
step  proud;  his  broken  frame  was  like  some  ruined 
tower;  his  hairs  were  white  and  scattered;  and  his  eye 
gazed  vacantly  upon  what  was  passing  around  him. 
The  "^vi^r  of  his  intellect  was  wasted,  and  of  all  that 
he  had  gained  by  study,  nothing  remained.  He  feared 
when  there  was  no  danger,  and  when  there  was  no  sor- 
row he  wept.  His  memory  was  decayed  and  treacher- 
ous, and  showed  him  only  broken  images  of  the  glory 
that  was  departed. 

4.  His  house  to  him  was  like  a strange  land,  and  his 
friends  were  counted  as  his  enemies;  and  he  thought 
himself  strong  and  healthful,  while  his  foot  tottered  on 
the  ■^vei'ge  of  the  grave.  He  said  of  his  son,  “He  is  my 
brother^  ;”  of  his  daughter^,  “I  know  her  not^;”  and 
he  inquired  what  was  his  own  name.  And  one  who 
supported  his  last  steps,  and  ministered  to  his  many 
wants,  said  to  me,  as  I looked  on  the  melancholy  scene, 
“Let  thine  heart  receive  instruction,  for  thou  hast  seen 
an  end  of  all  earthly  perfection.” 

5.  I have  seen  a beautiful  female  treading  the  first 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


61 


stages  of  youth,  and  entering  joyfully  info  the  pleasures 
of  life.  The  glance  of  her  eye  was  ‘‘  vaRahle  and  sweet, 
and  on  her  cheek  trembled  something  like  the  first  blush 
of  the  morning ; her  lips  mioved,  and  there  was  har- 
mony ; and  when  she  '*'5 oaxed  in  the  dance,  her  light 
form,  like  the  aspen,  seemed  to  move  with  every  breeze. 
1 returned,  but  she  was  not  in  the  dance;  I sought 
her  in  the  gay  circle  of  her  companions,  but  found  her 
not. 

6.  Her  eye  sparkled  not  there;  the  music  of  her 
voice  was  silent ; she  rejoiced  on  earth  no  more.  I saw 
a train,  sable  and  slow-paced,  who  bore  sadly  to  an  open 
grave  what  once  was  animated  and  beautiful.  They 
paused  as  they  approached,  and  a voice  broke  the  awful 
silence:  ‘^Mingle  ashes  with  ashes,  and  dust  with  its 
original  dust.  To  the  earth  whence  it  was  taken,  +coii-' 
sign  we  the  body  oFour  sister.”  They  covered  her  with 
the  damp  soil  and  the  clods  of  the  valley;  and  the 
worms  crowded  into  her  silent  abode.  Yet  one  sad 
mourner  'tlin^red  to  cast  himself  upon  the  grave ; and 
as  he  wept,  he  said,  “ There  is  no  beauty,  nor  grace,  nor 
loveliness,  that  continueth  in  man ; for  this  is  the  end  of 
all  his  glory  and  perfection.” 

7.  I have  seen  an  infant  with  a fair  brow,  and  a 
frame  like  polished  "^iv^ly.  Its  limbs  were  pliant  in  its 
sports ; it  rejoiced,  and  again  it  wept ; but  whether  its 
glowing  cheek  dimpled  with  smiles,  or  its  blue  eye  was 
brilliant  with  tears,  still  I said  to  my  heart,  “ It  is  beau- 
tiful.” It  was  like  the  first  pure  blossom,  which  some 
cherished  plant  had  shot  forth,  whose  cup  is  filled  with 
a dewdrop,  and  whose  head  reclines  upon  its  parent 
stem. 


8.  I again  saw  this  child,  when  the  lamp  of  reason 
first  dawned  in  its  mind.  Its  soul  was  gentle  and  peace- 
ful; its  eye  sparkled  with  joy,  as  it  looked  round  on  this 
good  and  pleasant  world.  It  ran  swiftly  in  the  ways  of 
knowledge ; it  bowed  its  ear  to  instruction ; it  stood 
like  a lamb  before  lits  teachers.  It  was  not  proud,  nor 
envious,  nor  '’'stubborn  ; and  it  had  never  heard  of  the 
vices  and  '^va^iftfes  of  the  world.  And  when  I looked 


62 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


upon  it,  I remembered  that  our  Savior  had  said,  Ex* 
cept  ye  become  as  little  children,  ye  can  not  enter  into 
the  kingdom  of  heaven.” 

9.  But  the  scene  was  changed,  and  I saw  a man 
whom  the  world  called  honorable,  and  many  waited  for 
his  smile.  They  pointed  out  the  fields  that  were  his, 
and  talked  of  the  silver  and  gold  that  he  had  gathe]Q^d ; 
the}^  admired  the  stateliness  of  his  domes,  and  **'exl!o11ed 
the  honor  of  his  family.  And  his  heart  answered  secret- 
ly, “By  my  wisdom  have  I gotten  all  this;”  so  he  re- 
turned no  thanks  to  God,  neither  did  he  fear  nor  serve 
him. 

10.  And  as  I passed  along,  I heard  the  complaints  of 
the  laborers  who  had  reaped  down  his  fields,  and  the 
cries  of  the  poor,  whose  covering  he  had  taken  away; 
but  the  sound  of  feasting  and  revelry  was  in  his  apart- 
ments, and  the  unfed  beggar  came  tottering  from  his 
door.  , But  he  considered  not,  that  the  cries  of  the 
'**oppr^fesed  were  continually  entering  into  the  ears  of 
the  Most  High.^And  when  I knew  that  this  man  was 
once  the  *^teacnable  child,  that  I had  loved,  the  beautiful 
infant  that  I had  gazed  upon  with  delight,  I said  in  my 
bitterness,  “I  have  seen  an  end  of  all  perfection;”  and  I 
laid  my  mouth  in  the  dust. 

Questions. — Describe  the  man  spoken  of  in  his  glory.  What 
change  took  place ? What  becomes  of  beauty  as  time  passes?  What 
becomes  of  the  docility  and  loveliness  of  childhood?  What  does  all 
this  teach  us?  Where  shall  we  find  unchangeable  perfection? 

Explain  the  inflections  marked,  and,  also,  those  of  the  6th,  7th,  and 
8th  paragraphs. 


EXERCISE  VI. 

We  constructed  an  arc,  and  began  jproUem,  The  surf  heat 
heavily.  Arm!  warriors,  arm!  Return  to  thy  dwelling,  all  lonely 
return.  Weave  the  warp,  and  weave  the  woof  Send  me  Smithes 
Thucydides.  Thou  tear* st  my  heart  asunder.  I give  my  hand  and 
heart  too  to  this  vote. 

The  Teacher  is  reminded  that  the  pupil  should  not  neglect,  before 
reading  the  sentences,  to  spell  each  difficult  word  by  its  elemcnU, 
uttering  two  or  more  consonants  which  come  together  as  a single 
Bound. 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


G3 


LESSON  X./^ 


6-  Sub^-tile;  adj.  tliin,  delicate. 
5.  Crest;  n.  a tuft  or  ornament 
worn  on  the  head. 


6.  Wi^ly;  adj.  cunning,  sly. 

7.  Coun^-sel-or;  n.  one  who  gives 

advice. 


THE  SPIDER  AND  THE  FLY.— A Fable. 

Pronounce  correctly.  Do  not  piit-ti-est  (pro.  prit-ti-est)  for 
pret-ti-est;  creature  nor  critter,  (pro.  creat-yure)  for  creat-ure; 
ful-lisli  for  fool-ish ; ferss-ly  for  fierce-ly. 

1.  Will  you  walk  into  my  '^parlor said  a spider  to  a fly, 
’T  is  tlie  prettiest  little  parlor  that  ever  you  did  spy. 

The  way  into  my  parlor  is  up  a winding  stair, 

And  I have  many  pretty  things  to  show  when  you  are  there. 

‘‘  Oh  no^,  no'",^^  said  the  little  fly,  to  ask  me  is  in  vain, 

For  who  goes  up  your  winding  stair  can  ne’er  come  down 
again.^’ 

2.  Fm  sure  you  must  be  weary^  with  ■‘‘soaring  up  so  high; 
Will  you  rest  upon  my  little  bed  said  the  spider  to  the  fly, 

There  are  pretty  curtains  drawn  around^,  the  sheets  are  fine 
and  thin^, 

And  if  you  like  to  rest  awhile^,  I HI  snugly  tuck  you  in^.” 

Oh  no^,  no^/'  said  the  little  fly,  for  I Ve  often  heard  it  said, 
They  never ^ never  wcilce  again,  who  sleep  upon  your  bed.’^ 

3.  Said  the  cunning  spider  to  the  fly,  “ Dear  friend^,  what 

shall  I do^, 

To  prove  the  warm  ‘‘‘affection  F ve  always  felt  for  you  ? 

I have  within  my  pantry,  good  store  of  all  that  ^s  nice ; 

I’m  sure  you’re  very  welcome;  will  you  please  to  take  a slice''?” 
“Oh  no'",  no^!”  said  the  little  fly^,  “kind  sir^,  that  can  not  be^; 
I ’ve  lieard^  what’s  in  your  pantry,  and  I do  not  wish  to  see^V 

4.  “Sweet  creature !”  said  the  spider,  “you’re  witty  and  you’re 

wise^. 

How  handsome  are  your  ‘‘‘gauzy  wings^,  how  ‘‘‘brilliant  are 
your  eyes^  I 


G4 


JSTEW  FIFTH  READER. 


I have  a little  looking-glass  upon  my  parlor  shelf, 

If  you'll  step  in  one  moment,  dear,  you  shall  behold  yourself." 
I thank^  you,  gentle  sir^,"  she  said,  “ for  what  you  're 
pleased  to  say. 

And  bidding  you  good  morning  now^^  I'll  call  another  day." 

5.  The  spider  turned  him  round  about,  and  went  into  his  den, 
For  well  he  knew  the  silly  fly  would  soon  be  back  again : 

So  he  wove  a subtile  web,  in  a little  corner,  sly, 

And  set  his  table  ready  to  dine  upon  the  fly. 

Then  he  went  out  to  his  door  again,  and  "^merrily  did  sing. 
Come  hither*^,  hither^,  pretty  fly^,  with  the  pearl  and  silver 
wing : 

Your  robes  are  green  and  purple;  there's  a crest  upon  your 
head  ; 

Your  eyes  are  like  the  ^diamond  bright,  but  mine  are  dull  as 
lead." 

6.  Alas,  alas  ! how  very  soon  this  silly  little  fly. 

Hearing  his  wily  "^flattering  words,  came  slowly  flitting  by. 
With  buzzing  wings  she  hung  aloft,  then  near  and  nearer 

drew. 

Thinking  only  of  her  brilliant  eyes,  and  green  and  purple  hue; 
Thinking  only  of  her  crested  head — poor  foolish  thing ! At  last, 
Up  jumped  the  cunning  spider,  and  fiercely  held  her  fast^. 

7.  He  dragged  her  up  his  winding  stair,  into  his  '^'dismal  den^ 
Within  his  little  parlor  ; but  she  ne’er  came  out  again  ! 

And  now,  my  dear  young  friends^,  who  may  this  story  read. 
To  idle,  silly,  flattering  words,  I pray  you,  ne'er  give  heed  ; 
Unto  an  evil  counselor,  close  heart,  and  ear,  and  eye, 

And  take  a lesson  from  the  tale  of  the  Spider  and  the  Fly. 

Questions. — Relate  the  conversation  between  the  spider  and  the 
fly.  What  motive  did  the  cunning  spider  finally  appeal  to,  which 
induced  the  fly  to  visit  it?  What  became  of  the  fly? 

Why  is  the  rising  inflection  used  at  “sir”  in  the  4th  stanza?  Why 
at  “fly”  in  the  6th?  Why  at  “friends”  in  the  7th? 

What  are  the  nouns  in  the  last  line?  The  verb?  The  adjectives 
or  articles?  See  Pinneo’s  Primary  Grammar,  pp.  19  and  20. 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


65 


EXERCISE  VII. 

My  Uncle  Toby  was  racked  with  pain.  Rocked  loith  whirlwinds 
Victory  will  weaken  the  enemy.  Think^st  thou  so  meanly  of  me? 
On  the  River  Elbe,  We  saw  the  Elk.  And  he  cried  hold,  hold, 
hold!  The  wolf  whose  howls  his  watch.  FalFn,  falVn,  falVn, 
falVn,  falVn  from  his  high  estate.  There  was  7io  help  for  it.  He 
watclVd  and  wept,  he  felt  and  prayed  for  ail.  It  was  a wilfidly 
false  account. 


LESSON  XI.// 


2.  Im-pos^-tor;  n.  one  who  de- 
ceives. 

2.  Lan^-guished;  v.  suffered. 

3.  A-ver^-sion;  n.  dislike. 

9.  Con-ster-na^-tion;  n.  terror. 


12.  Ar-ti-fV-cial;  adj,  not  genu- 
ine. 

22.  E-lec^-tric-al;  adj.  contain- 
ing electricity.  [will. 

24.  Leg^-a-cy  ; n.  something  left  by 


DO  NOT  MEDDLE. 

Pronounce  the  words  in  this  lesson  correctly.  Do  not  say 
benev'lunce  for  be-nev-o-lence ; assistiince  for  as-sist-ance ; impos- 
ter for  impos-tor;  pearunce  for  ap-pear-ance;  Vlong  for  be-long; 
JiasVly  for  has-t/-ly;  cuncealed  for  con-cealed;  imperdunce  for 
im-pw-dence. 

1.  About  twenty  years  ago,  there  lived  a '’‘singular 
gentleman  in  the  old  Hall  among  the  Elm  Trees.  He 
was  about  three  score  years  of  age,  very  rich,  and  some- 
what odd  in  many  of  his  habits,  but  for  '’generosity  and 
■^benevolence  he  had  no  equal. 

2.  Ho  poor  ■’'cottager  stood  in  need  of  comforts  which 
he  was  not  ready  to  supply ; no  sick  man  or  woman 
languished  for  want  of  his  '’'assistance ; and  not  even  a 
beggar,  unless  a known  impostor,  went  empty  handed 
from  the  Hall. 

The  sick  he  ’’’soothed,  the  hungry  fed, 

Bade  care  and  sorrow  fly. 

And  loved  to  raise  the  downcast  head 
Of  friendless  poverty. 

3.  Now  it  happened  that  the  old  gentleman  wanted 
0 l>oy  to  wait  upon  him  at  table,  and  to  attend  him  in 
rvfh  R.—n 


G6 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


dilferent  tv  ays,  for  he  was  very  fond  of  young  people. 
But  mucli  as  he  liked  the  '^'society  of  the  young,  he  had 
a great  aversion  to  that  '♦'curiosity  in  which  many  young 
people  are  apt  to  indulge.  He  used  to  say,  ‘‘The  boy 
who  will  peep  into  a drawer,  will  be  tempted  to  take 
something  out  of  it;  and  he  who  will  steal  a penny  in 
his  youth  will  steal  a pound  in  his  manhood.” 

4.  Ho  sooner  was  it  known  that  the  old  gentleman 
was  in  want  of  a boy,  than  twenty  '♦'applications  were 
made  for  the  situation;  but  he  determined  not  to  engage 
any  one,  until  he  had  in  some  way  '♦'ascertained  that  he 
did  not  possess  a curious,  prying  '♦'disposition. 

5.  On  Monday  morning,  seven  lads,  dressed  in  their 
Sunday  clothes,  with  bright  and  happy  faces,  made 
their  appearance  at  the  Hall,  each  of  them  desiring 
to  obtain  the  situation.  How  the  old  gentleman,  being 
of  a singular  disposition,  had  prepared  a room  in  such  a 
way,  that  he  might  easily  know  if  any  of  the  young 
people  who  applied,  were  given  to  meddle  '♦’unnecessarily 
with  things  around  them,  or  to  peep  into  cupboards  and 
drawers.  He  took  care  that  the  lads  who  were  then  at 
Elm  Tree  Hall,  should  be  shown  into  this  room  one  after 
another. 

6.  And  first,  Charles  Brown  was  sent  into  the  room, 
and  told  that  he  would  have  to  wait  a little.  So  Charles 
sat  down  on  a chair  near  the  door.  Eor  some  time  he 
was  very  quiet  and  looked  about  him  ; but  there  seemed 
to  be  so  many  curious  things  in  the  room,  that  at  last, 
he  got  up  to  peep  at  them. 

7.  On  the  table  was  placed  a dish  cover,  and  Charles 
wanted  sadly  to  know  what  was  under  it,  but  he  felt 
afraid  of  lifting  it  up.  Bad  habits  are  strong  things; 
and  as  Charles  v^as  of  a curious  disposition,  he  could  not 
withstand  the  '♦'temptation  of  taking  one  peep.  So  he 
lifted  up  the  cover. 

8.  This  turned  out  to  be  a sad  '♦'affair ; for  under  the 
dish  cover  was  a heap  of  very  light  feathers;  part  of  the 
feathers,  drawn  up  by  a '♦'current  of  air,  fiew  about  the 
room,  and  Charles,  in  his  fright,  putting  down  the  cover 
hastily,  puffed  the  rest  of  them  off  the  table. 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


67 


9.  What  was  to  be  done?  Charles  began  to  pick  up 
the  feathers  one  by  one;  but  the  old  gentleman,  who 
was  in  an  '‘'adjoining  room,  hearing  a '‘‘scuffle,  and  guess- 
ing the  cause  of  it,  entered  the  room,  to  the  consterna- 
tion of  Charles  Brown,  who  was  very  soon  dismissed,  as 
a boy  who  had  not  '‘'principle  enough  to  resist  even  a 
slight  temptation. 

10.  When  the  room  was  once  more  arranged,  Henry 
Wilkins  was  placed  there,  until  such  time  as  he  should 
be  sent  for.  No  sooner  was  he  left  to  himself,  than  his 
attention  was  attracted  by  a plate  of  fine,  ripe  cherries. 
Now  Henry  was  uneommonly  fond  of  cherries,  and 
he  thought  it  would  be  impossible  to  miss  one  cherry 
among  so  many.  He  looked  and  longed,  and  longed 
and  looked,  for  some  time,  and  just  as  he  had  got  off 
his  seat  to  take  one,  he  heard,  as  he  thought,  a foot 
coming  to  the  door;  but  no,  it  was  a false  alarm. 

11.  Taking  fresh  courage,  he  went  '‘'cautiously  and 
took  a very  fine  cherry,  for  he  was  determined  to  take 
but  one,  and  put  it  into  his  mouth.  It  was  excellent; 
and  then  he  persuaded  himself  that  he  ran  no  risk  in 
taking  another;  this  he  did,  and  hastily  popped  it  into 
his  mouth. 

12.  Now,  the  old  gentleman  had  j)laced  a few  artificial 
cherries  at  the  top  of  the  others,  filled  with  '‘'cayenne 
pepper;  one  of  these  Henry  had  unfortunately  taken, 
and  it  made  his  mouth  smart  and  burn  most  intolerably. 
The  old  gentleman  heard  him  coughing,  and  knew  very 
well  what  was  the  matter.  The  boy  that  would  take 
what  did  not  belong  to  him,  if  no  more  than  a cherry, 
was  not  the  boy  for  him.  Henry  Wilkins  was  sent 
about  his  business  without  delay,  with  his  mouth  almost 
as  hot,  as  if  he  had  put  a burning  coal  into  it. 

13.  Bufus  Wilson  was  next  introduced  into  the  room, 
and  left  to  himself;  but  he  had  not  been  there  ten  min- 
utes, before  he  began  to  move  from  one  place  to  another. 
He  was  of  a bold  resolute  temper,  but  not  overburdened 
with  principle,  for  if  he  could  have  opened  every  cup- 
board, closet,  and  drawer  in  the  house,  without  being 
found  out,  ho  would  have  done  it  directly. 


68 


JSTEW  FIFTH  KEADFK. 


14.  Having  looked  around  the  room,  iie  noticed  a 
drawer  to  the  table,  and  made  up  his  mind  to  peep  there- 
in. But  no  sooner  did  he  lay  hold  of  the  drawer  knob, 
than  he  set  a large  bell  ringing,  which  was  concealed 
under  the  table.  The  old  gentleman  immediately  an- 
swered the  summons,  and  entered  the  room. 

15.  Rufus  was  so  startled  by  the  sudden  ringing  of  the 
bell,  that  all  his  impudence  could  not  support  him.  He 
looked  as  though  any  one  might  knock  him  down  with  a 
feather.  The  old  gentleman  asked  him  if  he  had  rung 
the  bell  because  he  wanted  any  thing.  Rufus  was  much 
confused,  and  stammered,  and  tried  to  excuse  himself, 
but  all  to  no  purpose,  for  it  did  not  prevent  him  from 
being  ordered  olf  the  premises. 

16.  George  Jones  was  then  shown  into  the  room  by  an 
old  steward ; and  being  of  a cautious  disposition,  he 
touched  nothing,  but  only  looked  at  the  things  about 
him.  At  last  he  saw  that  a closet  door  was  a little  open, 
and  thinking  it  would  be  impossible,  for  any  one  to  know 
that  he  had  opened  it  a little  more,  he  very  cautiously 
opened  it  an  inch  farther,  looking  dowm  at  the  bottom  of 
‘die  door,  that  it  might  not  catch  against  any  thing,  and 
make  a noise. 

17.  How  had  he  looked  at  the  top  instead  of  the  bot- 
tom, it  might  have  been  better  for  him,  for  to  the  top  of 
the  door  was  fastened  a plug  which  filled  up  the  hole  of 
a small  barrel  of  shot.  He  ventured  to  open  the  door 
another  inch,  and  then  another,  till  the  plug  being  pulled 
out  of  the  barrel,  the  leaden  shot  began  to  pour  out  at  a 
strange  rate ; at  the  bottom  of  the  closet  was  placed  a tin 
pan,  and  the  shot  falling  upon  this  pan  made  such  a 
clatter,  that  George  was  frightened  half  out  of  his  senses. 

18.  The  old  gentleman  soon  came  into  the  room  to  in- 
quire what  was  the  matter,  and  there  he  found  George 
nearly  as  pale  as  a sheet.  George  was  soon  dismissed. 

19.  It  now  came  the  turn  of  Albert  Jenkins  to  be  put 
into  the  room.  The  other  boys  had  been  sent  to  their 
homes  by  different  ways,  and  no, one  knew  what  the  ex- 
perience of  the  other  had  been  in  the  room  of  trial. 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


G9 


20.  On  tho  table  stood  a small  round  box,  with  a screw 
top  to  it,  and  Albert  thinking  it  contained  somethin" 
curious,  could  not  be  easy  without  unscrewing  the  top’ 
but  no  sooner  did  he  do  this,  than  out  bounced  an  arti- 
ficial snake,  full  a yard  long,  and  fell  upon  his  arm.  He 
started  back,  and  uttered  a scream,  which  brought  tho 
old  gentleman  to  his  elbow.  There  stood  Albert,  with 
the  bottom  of  the  box  in  one  hand,  the  top  in  the  other 
and  the  snake  on  the  floor.  ^ 

. 21,  “Come,  come,  said  the  old  gentleman,  o'ne  snake  is 
quite  enough  to  have  in  the  house  at  a time;  therefore 
the  sooner  you  are  gone  the  better.”  With  that  he  dis- 
missed him,  without  waiting  a moment  for  his  reply. 

22.  William  Smith  next  entered  the  room,  and  being 
left  alone,  soon  began  to  amuse  himself  in  looking  at  the 
curiosities  around  him.  William  was  not  only  curious 
and  prying,  but  dishonest  too,  and  observing  that  the 
key  was  left  in  the  drawer  of  a book  case,  he  stepped  on 
tiptoe  in  that  direction.  The  key  had  a wire  fastened  to 
It,  which  communicated  with  an  electrical  machine,  and 
William  received  such  a shock  as  he  was  not  likely  to 
forget.  Ho  sooner  did  he  sufficiently  recover  himself  to 
walk,  than  he  was  told  to  leave  the  house,  and  let  other 
people  lock  and  unlock  their  own  drawers. 

23.  The  other  boy  was  Harry  Gordon,  and  though  ho 
was  left  m the  room  full  twenty  minutes,  he  never  during 
that  time,  stirred  from  his  chair.  Harry  had  eyes  in  his 
head  as  well  as^  the  others,  but  he  had  more  integrity  in 
his  heart;  neither  the  dish  cover,  the  cherries  the 
drawer  knob,  the  closet  door,  the  round  box,  nor  the 
key,  tempted  him^  to  rise  from  his  seat;  and  the  conse- 
quence was,  that,  in  half  an  hour  after,  he  was  engaged 
in  the  service  of  the  old  gentleman  at  Elm  Tree  Hall. 

24.  Harry  Gordon  followed  his  good  old  master  to  his 
grave^,  and  received  a large  legacy  for  his  upright  con- 
duct^ in  his  service'.  Head  this,  ye  busy,  meddling 
peeping,  pilfering  young  people^,  and  imitate  the  ex- 
ample  of  Harry  Gorc^^n^. 

QnEftTiONH — Explain  the  inflections  in  the  last  paragraph. 


70 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


LESSON  XII  It 


2.  Po-LiTE^-NESS;  n.  good  breeding.  I 6.  Pack  ; n.  a collection. 

2.  Perch;  n.  a place  to  roost.  I 8.  Curs;  n,  a name  for  dogs. 


THE  CHICKEN  COCK  AND  THE  FOX. 

Pronounce  correctly  the  following  words  in  this  lesson.  Do  not 
say  politeness  for  po-lite-ness ; setting  for  szt-ting ; wenever  for 
wAen-ev-er;  ear-nes-hj  for  ear-nesMy;  Jioiins  for  bounces. 

1.  A YOUNG  chicken-cock,  that  was  sitting  upon  the 
branch  of  a tree,  crowed  so  loud,  that  a fox  which 
chanced  to  he  passing  by,  heard  him.  So  he  went  np  to 
him  and  said,  “How  do  you  do,  my  dear  friend?  I have 
not  seen  you  for  an  age.” 

2.  “Thank  you  for  your  politeness,  sir,”  said  the  cock. 
“I  am  as  well  as  usual.”  “I  am  delighted  to  hear  it,” 
said  the  fox.  “Pray  come  down  from  that  high  perch, 
so  that  I may  see  you  closer,  and  admire  your  beautiful 
feathers.” 

3.  “Ho,  I am  much  obliged  to  you,”  said  the  cock; 
“that  will  not  do,  for  I have  heard  my  old  father  say, 
that  a fox  is  very  fond  of  the  flesh  of  a cock,  and  will 
eat  him  whenever  he  gets  a chance.  So,  if  you  please, 
I will  stay  where  I am.” 

4.  “Pshaw,  "Upshaw,  child,”  said  the  sly  thief;  “give 
me  leave  to  tell  you  that  your  sire  is  an  old  fool,  and 
does  not  speak  a word  of  truth,  for  I know  that  all  the 
beasts  and  birds  are  now  at  "^peace ; therefore  you  need 
not  mind  that,  but  fly  down  and  see  me.” 

5.  “Is  this  all  true?”  said  the  cock.  “I  am  very  glad 
to  hear  it,  I am  sure.”  And  saying  this,  he  "^stretched 
out  hi&  neck  as  far  as  he  could,  as  if  he  saw  something  a 
great  way  off. 

6.  “What  do  you  see,  my  dear  friend,  that  you  look 
out  so  ■’'earnestly?”  said  the  fpx;  Oh  nothing  at  all,” 
said  the  cock,  “only  a pack  of  hj^nds,  that  seem  to  bo 


ECLECTIC  SERIES.  71 

running  a race.  It  is  a fine  sight.  Look,  look,  they 
are  coming  this  way.” 

7.  “Dear  me,”  said  the  fox;  “coming  this  way? 
Then  it  is  high  time  to  be  gone.”  “Gone!”  said  the 
cock;  “why  should  you  go?  What  danger  can  there  bo 
to  a fox  in  meeting  hounds  in  time  of  peace?” 

8.  “Yes,”  cried  the  fox,  “all  you  say  is  true;  but  it  is 
ten  to  one  that  these  vile  curs  have  not  yet  heard  of  the 
peace ; therefore  I must  run  as  fast  as  I can  to  get  out  of 
the  way?” 

MORAL. 

9.  This  story  shows  us,  that  when  a known  'tenemy 
wishes  to  seem  a friend,  there  is  most  cause  for  us  to 
keep  out  of  his  reach ; and  also  that  '^shame  is  likely  to 
follow  ■^■falsehood. 

Questions. — Relate  the  conversation  between  the  chicken,  and  the 
fox.  To  what  did  the  cock  direct  the  fox’s  attention,  and  what  did 
the  fox  say  and  do?  What  is  the  moral  of  this  fable? 


LESSON  XIII. /7 


2.  In-ex-haust^-i-ble  ; adj.  un- 
failing. 

2.  Budg^-et  ; n.  bag,  a little  sack. 


3.  Fleet  ; n.  a number  of  ships. 

3.  Im-pose  ; V.  to  deceive. 

4.  Chat;  n.  small  talk. 


THE  BARBER. 

Pronounce  correctly.  Do  not  say  stans  for  stands ; villij  for 
vil-lage  ; venter  for  vent-wre ; yit  for  yet ; loUe  for  w^ile. 

1.  There  stands  a shrewd  barber,  with  razor  and  pan 
Both  talking  and  shaving  as  fast  as  he  can ; 

No  man  in  the  ‘‘'village  has  got  more  to  say. 

Of  weather  and  wind,  and  the  news  of  the  day. 

2.  No  sooner  has  gentleman  taken  his  seat. 

Well  covered  with  ‘‘‘napkin,  spread  over  him  neat, 
Than  barber  begi^^i^ot  a moment  to  lose) 

With  his  most  i ^ihtible  budget  of  news. 


72 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


3.  “A  very  fine  day,  sir ; but  yet,  if  I’m  right. 

We  shall  "^certainly  have  some  rain  before  night. 

And  so,  sir,  they  say  the  French  fleet  is  at  sea; 

For  my  part  they  can  not  impose  upon  me. 

4.  “If  ever  they  venture  at  England  to  call. 

Why,  I do  n’t  know  nothing  about  it,  that ’s  all. 

Come  Bob!  is  the  gentleman’s  wig  nearly  done? 

Why,  I could  do  twenty,  while  you  ’re  doing  one ; 
y ou  are  talking  too  fast  to  know  what  you  are  at ; 

I hate  to  see  people  so  full  of  their  chat! 

5.  “ ’T  is  those  who  say  little  that  do  their  work  best, 

No,  no,  sir,  the  fleet  has  not  got  out  of  Brest.” 

“Very  well,  Mr.  Barber,  what  have  I to  pay?” 

“Only  sixpence,  sir;  thank  you,  sir;  wish  you  good 

day!” 

Questions. — What  was  the  barber  himself  famous  for,  and  for  what 
did  he  reprove  his  workman  ? 


LESSON  XIV./^ 


1.  Fag^-ots;  n.  bundles  of  sticks 
used  for  fuel. 

1.  Prat^-tle;  w.  trifling  talk. 

1.  Dis^-si-pate  ; v.  to  scatter,  to 

disperse. 

2.  Pu^-NY ; adj.  small  and  weak. 

4.  PiL^-GRiM-AGE ; n.  the  journey 

of  human  life. 


7.  CoM-PLi-cA^-TiON ; n.  the  act  of 
mingling  together  several 
things. 

7.  Sym^-pa-thies  ; n.  compassion. 

9.  Gushed  ; v.  flowed  copiously. 

9.  Man^-na  ; n,  food  miraculously 
provided  by  God  for  the  Is- 
raelites. 


THE  RIGHTEOUS,  NEVER  FORSAKEN. 

Remark. — As  each  one  reads,  let  each  scholar  in  the  class  mention 
every  syllable  that  is  pronounced  wrong,  and  correct  it. 

Utter  the  final  g distinctly  in  the  following  words  in  this  lesson  : 
blazing,  endeavoring,  listening,  wasting,  surrounding,  gathering, 
driving,  neighboring,  herring,  swellings,  tidings,  ministering,  de- 
fending, frowning,  barking,  continuing,  giving,  darling,  springing. 

1.  It  Saturday  night,  and  tj^e  widow  of  the  Pine 
Cottage  eat  by  her  blazing  fagots,  with  her  five  tattered 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


73 


children  at  her  side,  endeavoring  by  listening  to  the 
■^artlessness  of  their  jDrattlc,  to  dissipate  the  hea^^^y  gloom 
that  pressed  upon  her  mind.  For  a year,  her  own  feeble 
hand  had  provided  for  her  helpless  family,  for  she  had 
no  supporter:  she  thought  of  no  friend  in  all  the  wide, 
■‘‘unfriendly  world  around. 

2.  But  that  "^mysterious  Providence,  the  wisdom  of 
whose  ways  is  above  human  comprehension,  had  visited 
her  with  wasting  sickness,  and  her  little  means  had 
become  ^exhausted.  It  was  now,  too,  midwinter,  and 
the  snow  lay  heavy  and  deep  through  all  the  surround- 
ing forests,  while  storms  still  seemed  gathering  in  the 
heavens,  and  the  driving  wind  roared  amid  the  neigh- 
boring pines,  and  rocked  her  puny  mansion. 

3.  The  last  herring  smoked  upon  the  coals  before 
her;  it  was  the  only  article  of  food  she  possessed,  and 
no  wonder  her  forlorn,  '^desolate  state  brought  up  in 
her  lone  bosom  all  the  ‘‘‘anxieties  of  a mother,  when 
she  looked  upon  her  children:  and  no  wonder,  forlorn 
as  she  was,  if  she  suffered  the  heart  swellings  of  despair 
to  rise,  even  though  sbe  knew  that  He,  whose  promise 
is  to  the  widow  and  to  the  orphan,  can  not  forget  his 
word. 

4.  ‘‘‘Providence  had,  many  years  before,  taken  from 
her  her  eldest  son,  who  went  from  his  forest  home  to 
try  his  fortune  on  the  high  seas,  since  which  she  had 
heard  no  tidings  of  liim;  and,  in  her  latter  time,  had,  by 
the  hand  of  death,  deprived  her  of  the  companion  and 
staff  of  her  earthly  pilgrimage,  in  the  person  of  her 
husband.  Yet  to  this  hour  she -had  upborne;  she  had 
not  only  been  able  to  provide  for  her  little  flock,  but 
had  never  lost  an  ‘‘‘opportunity  of  ‘‘‘m  ini  storing  to  the 
wants  of  the  miserable  and  destitute. 

5.  The  ^^indolent  may  well  bear  with  poverty,  while 
the  ability  to  gain  sustenance  remains.  The  individual 
who  has  but  his  own  wants  to  supply,  may  suffer  with 
fortitude  the  winter  of  want;  his  affections  are  nc^ 
wounded,  his  heart  not  wrung.  The  most  desolate  in 
■‘‘populous  cities  may  hope,  for  charity  has  not  quite 
closed  her  hand  and  heart,  and  shut  her  eyes  on  misery. 

R.— 7 


74 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


6.  But  the  ■^'industrious  mother  of  helpless  and  de- 
pen ding ‘■children,  far  from  the  reach  of  human  charity, 
has  none  of  these  to  '^'console  her.  And  such  a one  was 
the  widow  of  the  Pine  Cottage ; but  as  she  bent  over  the 
fire,  and  took  up  the  last  scanty  '^'remnant  of  food, 
lo  spread  before  her  children,  her  spirits  seemed  to 
brighten  up,  as  by  some  sudden  and  mysterious  impulse, 
and  Cowper’s  beautiful  lines  came  uncalled  across  her 
mind : 

Judge  not  the  Lord  by  feeble  sense, 

But  trust  him  for  his  grace; 

Behind  a frowning  Providence 
He  hides  a smiling  face. 

7.  The  smoked  herring  was  scarcely  laid  upon  the 
table,  when  a gentle  rap  at  the  door,  and  loud  barking 
of  a dog,  attracted  the  attention  of  the  family.  The 
children  flew  to  open  it,  and  a weary  traveler,  in  tattered 
garments,  and  "^apparently  indifferent  health,  entered 
and  begged  a lodging,  and  a mouthful  of  food.  Said  he, 
“It  is  now  twenty-four  hours  since  I tasted  bread.” 
The  widow’s  heart  bled  anew  as  under  a fresh  complica- 
tion of  distresses;  for  her  sympathies  lingered  not 
around  her  fireside.  She  hesitated  not  even  now;  rest 
and  a share  of  all  she  had  she  proffered  to  the  stranger 
“We  shall  not  be  forsaken,”  said  she,  “or  suffer  deeper 
for  an  act  of  charity.” 

8.  The  traveler  drew  near  the  board,  but  when  ho 
saw  the  scanty  fare,  he  raised  his  eyes  toward  heaven 
with  astonishment:  “And  is  this  all  your  store?”  said 
he,  “and  a share  of  this  do  you  offer  to  one  you  know 
not?  then  never  saw  I charity  before!  but  madam,”  said 
lie,  continuing,  “do  you  not  wrong  your  children  by 
giving  a part  of  your  last  mouthful  to  a stranger?” 

9.  “Ah,”  said  the  poor  widow,  and  the  teardrops 
gushed  into  her  eyes  as  she  said  it,  “I  have  a hoy^  a 
darling  5on,  somewhere  on  the  face  of  the  wide  world, 
unless  heaven  has  taken  him  away,  and  I only  act 
toward  you,  as  I would  that  others  should  act  toward 
him.  God,  who  sent  manna  from  heaven,  can  provide 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


75 


for  iis  as  lie  did  for  Israel;  and  how  should  I this  night 
offend  him,  if  niy  son  should  be  a '‘'wanderer,  '‘‘destitute 
as  you,  and  he  should  have  provided  for  him  a home, 
even  poor  as  this,  "were  I to  turn  you  unrelieved  away.” 

10.  The  widow  ended,  and  the  stranger  springing 
from  his  seat,  clasped  her  in  his  arms:  “God  indeed  has 
provided  your  son  a home,  and  has  given  him  wealth  to 
reward  the  goodness  of  his  '‘'benefactress : my  mother ! 
oh  my  mother!  ” It  was  her  long  lost  son,  returned  to 
her  bosom  from  the  Indies.  He  had  chosen  that  '‘'dis- 
guise that  he  might  the  more  completely  surprise  his 
family ; and  never  was  surprise  more  perfect,  or  followed 
by  a sweeter  cup  of  joy. 

11.  That  humble  '‘'residence  in  the  forest  was  ex- 
changed for  one  comfortable,  and  indeed  beautiful,  in 
the  valley;  and  the  widow  lived  long  with  her  dutiful 
son,  in  the  enjoyment  of  worldly  plenty,  and  in  the 
delightful  employments  of  virtue : and,  at  this  day,  the 

ass  --by  is  pointed  to  the  willow  that  spreads  its 
branches  above  her  grave. 

Questions. — Relate  the  history  of  the  widow  and  her  son.  Can 
evil  ever  come  from  being  benevolent?  Are  there  many  in  this 
world  really  so  poor  as  not  to  be  able  to  do  something  for  others? 


LESSON  XV.  rr 


1.  Mar^-vel-ous  ; adj,  wonderful. 

2.  Or-dained^;  v.  appointed,  es- 

tablished. 


2.  Do-minMon;  w.  supreme  power. 
5.  Ha^-ven  ; n.  a harbor,  a place 
where  ships  can  lie  in  safety. 


SELECT  PARAQRAPHS^ 

Remark. — Be  careful  to  read  the  last  words  of  every  sentence  in  as 
full  and  loud  a tone  as  the  first  part. 

Articulate  distinctly  the  Ji  in  the  following  words  in  this  les- 
son: his,  holy,  heart,  hath,  heaven,  heartily,  holiness,  haven,  head, 
house. 

1.  O GIVE  thunks  unto  the  Lord;  call  upon  his 
name;  make  known  his  deeds  among  the  people.  Sing 


76 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


unto  him;  sing  psalms  unto  him;  talk  ye  of  all  his 
wondrous  works.  Glory  ye  in  his  holy  name;  let  the 
heart  of  them  rejoice  that  seek  the  Lord.  Eemember 
his  marvelous  works  that  he  hath  done ; his  ^wonders, 
and  the  ‘‘‘judgments  of  his  mouth. 

2.  O Lord,  our  Lord,  how  ‘‘‘excellent  is  thy  name  in 
all  the  earth!  who  hast  set  thy  glory  above  the  heavens. 
When  I consider  thy  heavens,  the  work  of  thy  fingers; 
the  moon  and  the  stars  which  thou  hast  ordained ; what 
is  man  that  thou  art  mindful  of  him?  and  the  son  of 
man  that  thou  visitest  him?  For  thou  hast  made  him  a 
little  lower  than  the  angels,  and  hast  crowned  him  with 
glory  and  honor.  Thou  madest  him  to  have  dominion 
over  the  work  of  thy  hands;  thou  hast  put  all  things 
under  his  feet.  O Lord,  our  Lord,  how  excellent  is  thy 
name  in  all  the  earth ! 

3.  will  say  of  the  Lord,  he  is  my  refuge  and  my 
fortress,  my  God;  in  him  will  1 trust.” — “Because  he 
hath  set  his  love  upon  me,  therefore  will  I ‘‘‘deliver  him : 
I will  set  him  on  high,  because  he  hath  known  my 
name.  He  shall  call  upon  me,  and  I will  answer  him ; 
I will  be  with  him  in  trouble ; I will  deliver  him  and 
honor  him.  With  long  life  will  I satisfy  him,  and  show 
him  my  ‘‘‘salvation.” 

4.  O come,  let  us  sing  unto  the  Lord,  let  us  heartily 
rejoice  in  the  strength  of  our  salvation.  Let  us  come 
before  his  presence  with  thanksgiving,  and  show  our- 
selves glad  in  him  with  psalms.  For  the  Lord  is  a 
great  God,  and  a great  King  above  all  gods.  O worship 
the  Lord  in  the  beauty  of  holiness ; let  the  whole  earth 
stand  in  awe  of  him.  For  he  cometh,  for  he  cometh,  to 
judge  the  earth;  and  with  righteousness  to  judge  the 
world,  and  the  people  with  his  truth. 

5.  O that  men  would  praise  the  Lord  for  his  good- 
ness, and  for  his  wonderful  works  to  the  children  of 
men ! They  that  go  down  to  the  sea  in  ships,  that  do 
business  in  great  waters;  these  see  the  works  of  the 
Lord,  and  his  wonders  in  the  deep.  For  he  command- 
eth,  and  raiseth  the  stormy  wind,  which  lifteth  up  the 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


77 


waves  thereof.  They  mount  up  to  the  heaven;  they  go 
down  again  to  the  depths;  their  soul  is  melted  because 
of  trouble;  they  reel  to  and  fro,  and  '^stagger  like  a 
drunken  man,  and  are  at  their  wit’s  end.  Then  they 
cry  unto  the  Lord  in  their  trouble,  and  he  bringeth 
them  out  of  their  ‘^distresses.  He  maketh  the  storm  a 
calm,  so  that  the  waves  thereof  are  still.  Then  are  they 
glad  because  they  are  quiet ; so  he  bringeth  them  unto 
their  desired  haven.  O that  men  would  praise  the  Lord 
for  his  goodness,  and  for  his  wonderful  works  to  the 
children  of  men ! 

6.  The  Lord  is  my  shepherd:  I shall  not  want.  Ho 
maketh  me  to  lie  down  in  green  pastures : he  leadeth 
me  beside  the  still  waters.  He  restoreth  my  soul;  he 
leadeth  me  in  the  paths  of  righteousness  for  his  name’s 
sake.  Yea,  though  I walk  through  the  valley  of  the 
■^shadow  of  death,  I will  fear  no  evil : for  thou  art  with 
me;  thy  rod  and  thy  staff,  they  ‘^comfort  me.  Thou 
preparest  a table  before  me  in  the  presence  of  mine 
enemies;  thou  anointest  my  head  with  oil;  my  cup  run- 
neth over.  Surely  goodness  and  mercy  will  follow  me 
all  the  days  of  my  life ; and  I shall  dwell  in  the  house 
of  the  Lord  forever. 

Questions. — What  does  God  promise  to  one  who  makes  Him  his 
refuge?  What  is  meant  by  “setting  him  on  high?’’  Is  the  promise 
of  “satisfying" him  with  long  life,”  fulfilled  in  this  world?  Who  are 
described  in  the  5th  paragraph? 

Which  are  the  nouns  in  the  last  sentence?  The  verbs?  The  pro- 
nouns? The  adjectives?  What  is  “the”?  See  Pinneo’s  Primary 
Grammar,  page  19. 


EXERCISE  VIII. 

We  ^0.1^  large,  dead  JisTi  fioating.  And  he  slew  him.  Every 
man^s  house  is  his  castle.  This  meteorous  vapor  is  called,  “ Will 
o^the  wispJ^  I thrust  three  thousand  thistles  through  the  thich  of 
my  thumb.  Braid  broad  braids,  my  brave  babes.  We  never 
swerved,  but  lost  our  swivel  gun.  Crazy  Craycroft  caught  a crate 
of  crinckled  crabs.  Where  is  the  crate  of  crinclded  crabs  that 
crazy  Craycroft  caught? 


78 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


LESSON  XVI. 


1.  Fa-mil^-iar;  adj.  well  ac- 

quainted with. 

1.  Gar^-ner;  V.  to  lay  up  in 

store. 

2.  Sum^-moxed;  v.  called  to- 

gether. 

2.  Be-quest^;  n.  something  left 
^ by  will. 


2.  SuF-ro-cA^-TiON ; n.  choking, 
stifling  of  the  breath. 

4.  Va-'-cant;  adj.  empty. 

6.  Ver^-dant;  ac??.  green,  fresh. 
9.  Freight-'-ed  ; v.  loaded. 

9.  Sa^-vor-y  ; adj.  pleasing  to  the 
smell. 

9.  Dis^-cord  ; n.  grating  sounds. 


THE  DYING  BOY. 

Pronounce  correctly.  Do  not  say  cliileliood  for  chiy-hood; 
infan  for  in-fan^ ; heqiies  for  be-ques^. 

1.  It  must  be  sweet,  in  childhood,  to  give  back 
The  spirit  to  its  Maker ; ere  the  heart 

Has  grown  familiar  with  the  paths  of  sin. 

And  sown,  to  garner  up  its  bitter  fruits. 

I knew  a boy  whose  infant  feet  had  trod 
Upon  the  ^blossoms  of  some  seven  springs. 

And  when  the  eighth  came  round,  and  called  him  out 
To  revel  in  its  light,  he  turned  away, 

And  sought  his  chamber,  to  lie  down  and  die. 

2.  ’Twas  night;  he  summoned  his  accustomed  friends. 
And  on  this  wise  “^bestowed  his  last  bequest. 

‘^Mother,  I ’m  dying  now! 

There ’s  a deep  suffocation  in  my  breast. 

As  if  some  heavy  hand  my  bosom  pressed : 

And  on  my  brow, 

I feel  the  cold  sweat  stand; 

My  lips  grow  dry  and  '^tremulous,  and  my  breath 
Comes  feebly  on.  Oh  1 tell  me,  is  this  death ! 

3.  “Mother,  your  hand. 

Here,  lay  it  on  my  wrist. 

And  place  the  other  thus  beneath  my  head. 

And  say,  sweet  mother,  say,  when  I am  dead, 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


79 


Shall  I be  missed? 

Never  beside  your  knee, 

Shall  I kneel  down  again  at  night  to  pray; 

Nor  with  the  morning  wake,  and  sing  the  lay 
You  taught  me? 

i ^‘Oh,  at  the  time  of  prayer. 

When  you  look  round,  and  see  a vacant  seat. 

You  will  not  wait  then  for  my  coming  feet ; 

You  ’ll  miss  me  there. 

Father,  I am  going  home ! 

To  the  good  home  you  spoke  of,  that  blest  land, 
Where  it  is  one  bright  summer  always,  and 
Storms  do  never  come. 

5.  “I  must  be  happy  then 

From  pain  and  death  you  say  I shall  be  free, 

That  sickness  never  enters  there,  and  we 
Shall  meet  again. 

Brother,  the  little  spot 
I used  to  call  my  garden,  where  long  hours 
We  Ve  stayed  to  watch  the  budding  things  and  howers, 
Forget  it  not  1 

6.  “Plant  there  some  box  or  pine. 

Something  that  lives  in  winter,  and  will  be 
A verdant  offering  to  my  '^'memory. 

And  call  it  mine! 

7 “ Sister,  my  young  rose  tree. 

That  all  the  spring  has  been  my  pleasant  care. 

Just  putting  forth  its  leaves  so  green  and  fair, 

I give  to  thee ; 

And  when  its  roses  bloom, 

1 shall  be  far  away,  my  short  life  done; 

But  wall  you  not  bestow  a single  one 
Upon  my  tomb? 

8 “Now,  mother,  sing  the  tune 

You  sang  last  night.  I ’m  weary,  and  must  sleep, 

Who  was  it  called  my  name?  Nay,  do  not  weep. 

You  ’ll  all  come  soon?” 


80 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


9.  Morning  spread  over  earth  her  rosy  wings, 

And  that  meek  '^'sufferer,  cold  and  ivory  pale, 

Lay  on  his  ***couch  asleep.  The  gentle  air 
Came  through  the  open  window,  freighted  with 
The  savory  odors  of  the  early  spring ; 

He  breathed  it  not ; the  laugh  of  passers-by 
Jarred  like  a discord  in  some  mournful  tune. 

But  wakened  not  his  slumber.  He  was  dead. 

Questions. — What  is  the  subject  of  this  piece?  What  is  said  of 
childhood?  What  did  the  little  boy  exclaim  as  he  addressed  liis 
mother?  What  did  he  say  to  his  father?  What,  to  his  brother? 
What,  to  his  sister  ? What  was  his  last  request  of  his  mother  ? What 
reason  did  he  give,  why  they  should  not  weep  ? What  is  it  that  will 
enable  us  to  triumph  over  death  ? 


LESSON  XVII. /7 


1.  An^-nals;  n.  a species  of  his- 
tory, 

1.  El^-o-quence;  w.  the  power  of 
speaking  well. 

4.  Can^-o-py  ; n.  a covering  over 
head. 

6.  As-si-du^'-i-ty;  n.  close  appli- 
cation, diligence. 


5.  Gr AN^-A-RiES ; ?>?^orn-house8. 

6.  Pro-pens^-i-ties  ; n.  bent  of 
mind,  inclination. 

7.  Lav-'-ish;  adj.  profuse,  waste- 

ful. ' 

10.  Su-PER-FLu^-i-TiES ; n.  some- 
thing beyond  what  is  wanted. 
10.  Suc^-cor;  n.  help,  aid. 


THE  GENEROUS  RUSSIAN  PEASANT. 

Remark. — If  you  meet  with  difficult  words  or  foreign  names,  do 
not  hasten  over  them,  but  read  them  distinctly. 

Articulate  clearly.  Do  not  say  ceVdrate  for  cel-e-brate; 
jlat-Vry  for  flat-ter-y;  missies  for  mis-er-ies;  pon-dWin  for 
pon-dcr-inp';  genWal  for  gen-er-al;  c^lamHy  for  ca-lam-i-ty ; 
granaries  for  gran-a-ries. 

1.  Let  Yirgil  sing  the  praises  of  Augustus,  genius 
celebrate  merit,  and  '^flattery  extol  the  talents  of  the 
great.  The  short  and  simple  “annals  of  the  poor”  en- 
gross my  pen ; and  while  I record  the  history  of  Flor 
Silin’s  virtues,  though  I speak  of  a poor  peasant,  1 sliall 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


81 


describe  a noble  man.  1 ask  no  eloquence  to  assist  me 
in  the  task;  modest  worth  rejects  the  aid  of  ‘^ornament 
to  set  it  off. 

2.  It  is  impossible,  even  at  this  distant  period,  to-  re- 
flect, without  horror,  on  the  miseries  of  that  year,  known 
in  Lower  Wolga  by  the  name  of  the  famine  year''  I 
remember  the  summer,  whose  scorching  heats  had  dried 
up  all  the  fields,  and  the  drought  had  no  relief  but  from 
the  tears  of  the  ruined  farmer. 

3.  I remember  the  cold,  comfortless  autumn,  and  the 
despairing  trusties,  crowding  round  their  empty  farms 
with  folded  arms,  and  sorrowful  countenances,  tponder- 
ing  on  their  misery,  instead  of  rejoicing,  as  usual,  at  the 
golden  harvest.  I remember  the  winter  which  suc- 
ceeded, and  I reflect,  with  tagony,  on  the  miseries  it 
brought  with  it.  Whole  families  left  their  homes,  to 
become  beggars  on  the  highway. 

4.  At  night,  the  canojiy  of  heaven  served  them  as 
their  only  shelter  from  the  piercing  winds  and  bitter 
frost.  To  describe  these  scenes,  would  be  to  harm  the 
feelings  of  my  readers ; therefore  to  my  tale.  In  those 
days  I lived  on  an  estate  not  far  from  vSimbirsk ; and 
though  but  a child,  I have  not  forgotten  the  impression 
made  on  my  mind  by  the  general  +calamity. 

5.  In  a village  adjoining,  lived  Llor  Silin,  a poor, 
laboring  peasant : a man  remarkable  for  his  assiduity, 
and  the  skill  and  judgment  with  which  he  cultivated  his 
lands.  He  was  blessed  with  “^abundant  crops;  and  his 
means  being  larger  than  his  wants,  his  granaries,  even 
at  this  time,  were  full  of  corn.  The  dry  year  coming 
on,  had  beggared  all  the  village,  except  himself.  Here 
was  an  opportunity  to  grow  rich.  Mark  how  Flor  Silin 
acted.  Having  called  the  poorest  of  his  neighbors 
about  him,  he  addressed  them  in  the  following  man- 
ner. 

G.  “My  friends,  you  want  corn  for  your  subsistence. 
God  has  blessed  me  with  abundance.  Assist  in  thrashing 
out  a quantity,  and  each  of  you  take  what  he  wants  for 
his  family.”  The  peasants  were  amazed  at  this  uncx- 


82 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


ampled  generosity ; for  sordid  pro]3ensities  exist  in  the 
village,  as  well  as  in  the  *^'poj)ulous  city. 

7.  The  fame  of  Flor  Silin’s  benevolence  having 
reached  other  villages,  the  famished  inhabitants  pre- 
sented themselves  before  him,  and  begged  for  corn.  This 
good  creature  received  them  as  brothers ; and,  while  his 
store  remained,  afforded  all  relief.  At  length,  his  wife, 
seeing  no  end  to  the  '^'generosity  of  his  noble  spirit, 
reminded  him  how  necessary  it  would  be  to  think  of 
their  own  wants,  and  hold  his  lavish  hand,  before  it  was 
too  late.  “It  is  written  in  the  Scripture,”  said  he, 
“Give,  and  it  shall  be  given  unto  you.” 

8.  The  following  year.  Providence  listened  to  the 
prayers  of  the  poor,  and  the  harvest  was  abundant. 
The  peasants  who  had  been  saved  from  starving  by  Flor 
Silin,  now  gathered  around  him. 

9.  “Behold,”  said  they,  “the  corn  you  lent  us.  You 
saved  our  wives  and  children.  We  should  have  been 
■^famished  but  for  you;  may  God  reward  you;  he  only 
can;  all  we  have  to  give,  is  our  corn  and  grateful 
thanks.”  “I  want  no  corn  at  present,  my  good  neigh- 
bors,” said  he;  “my  harvest  has  exceeded  all  my  expect- 
ations ; for  the  rest,  thank  Heaven : I have  been  but  an 
humble  '^'instrument.” 

10.  They  urged  him  in  vain.  “Ho,”  said  he,  “1 
shall  not  accept  your  corn.  If  you  have  superfluities, 
share  them  among  your  poor  neighbors,  who,  being 
unable  to  sow  their  fields  last  autumn,  are  still  in  want ; 
let  us  assist  them,  my  dear  friends;  the  Almighty  will 
bless  us  for  it.”  “Yes,”  replied  the  grateful '^peasants, 
“our  poor  neighbors  shall  have  this  corn.  They  shall 
know  it  is  to  you  that  they  owe  this  timely  succor,  and 
join  to  teach  their  children  the  debt  of  gratitude,  due  to 
your  '^benevolent  heart.”  Silin  raised  his  tearful  eyes 
to  heaven.  An  angel  might  have  envied  him  his 
feelings. 

Questions. — What  was  the  famine  spoken  of  in  this  lesson  occa- 
sioned by?  Who  was  Flor  Silin,  and  what  did  he  do  for  his  poor 
neighbors?  What  did  he  say  when  a reward  was  ottered  him?  What 
should  we  learn  by  this  example? 


ECLECTIC  SEKIES. 


83 


LESSON  XVIII. 


1.  CoN-TEN^-TiONs;  u,  angry  con- 
tests, quarrels. 

2 De-mo^-ni-ac;  n.  one  possessed 
by  a devil. 

4.  Gen-er-a^-tion;  n.  a race,  the 
people  of  the  same  period. 

4.  De-bauch^ed;  adj.  corrupted  in 

morals. 

5.  Ten^-e-ments;  n.  houses. 

D.  In-her^-it-ance  ; n,  an  estate 
received  from  parents. 


6.  Des-o-la^-tion  ; n.  ruin,  de- 
struction. 

8.  /Con-so-la^-tion;  n.  comfort. 
8.  Phi-lan^-thro-pist;  n.  one 
•who  loves  his  fellow-men. 

11.  Ben-e-dic^-tion  ; n.  blessing. 

12.  Pen-i-ten^-tia-ry  ; n.  a house 

where  criminals  are  confined 
to  labor. 

12.  De-gen^-er-a-cy;  n.  the  state 
of  growing  worse. 


TOUCH  NOT— TASTE  NOT— HANDLE  NOT. 

Remark. — When  there  are  poetical  quotations  in  prose  pieces,  they 
should  be  read  as  if  they  were  part  of  the  same  line,  unless  the 
sense  requires  a pause. 

Pronounce  correctly.  Do  not  say  com-par-er-tive-lyy  for  com 
par-a-tive-ly ; fre-hwunt,  for  fre-quent;  tem-per-it-ly^  for  tem-per- 
ateAy\  scurce.dy,  for  scarce-ly;  iit-ier-uncej  for  ut-ter-ance. 

1.  “Wine  is  a mocker,  and  strong  drink  is  raging. 
Who  hath  woe?  who  hath  sorrow?  who  hath  conten- 
tions? who  hath  babbling?  who  hath  wounds  without 
a cause?  who  hath  redness  of  eyes?  They  that  tarry 
long  at  the  wine.” 

2.  How  often  do  men  meet  in  good  humor,  then  drink 
to  excess,  talk  nonsense,  fancy  themselves  insulted,  take 
fire  within,  frave,  threaten,  and  then  come  to  blows?  A 
long  time  ago,  Seneca  spoke  of  those  who  “let  in  a thief 
at  the  mouth  to  steal  away  the  brains.  ” In  such  a case, 
tlie  stupidity  of  a brute  is  often  united  with  the  fury  of 
a demoniac.  Hay,  the  man  among  the  tombs  was  'tcom- 
paratively  harmless,*  he  only  injured  himself.  But  how 
often  does  the  drunken  revel  end  in  the  cry  of  murder  I 

3.  How  often  does  the  hand  of  the  intoxicated  man, 
lifted  against  his  dearest  friend,  perhaps  the  wife  of  his 
bosom, 


84 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


In  one  rash  hour, 

Perform  a deed  that  haunts  him  to  the  grave 

4.  Could  1 call  around  me,  in  one  vast  assembly,  the 
}'Oung  men  of  this  nation,  I would  say : Hopes  of  my 
country,  blessed  be  ye  of  the  Lord,  now  in  the  dew  of 
your  youth.  But  look  well  to  your  footsteps ; for  4vi* 
l^ers,  and  scorj^ions,  and  adders  surround  your  way. 
Look  at  the  generation  who  have  just  4preceded  you. 
The  morning  of  their  life  was  cloudless,  and  it  dawned 
as  brightly  as  your  own.  But  behold,  now,  the  smit- 
ten, enfeebled,  inflamed,  debauched,  idle,  poor,  irreli- 
gious, and  -tvicious,  with  halting  step,  dragging  onward 
to  meet  an  early  grave. 

5.  Their  bright  prospects  are  clouded,  and  their  sun 
is  set,  never  to  rise.  Ho  house  of  their  own  receives 
them,  while  from  poorer  to  poorer  tenements  they  de- 
scend, as  improvidence  dries  up  their  resources.  And, 
now,  who  are  those  that  wait  on  their  footsteps,  with 
muffled  faces  and  -tsable  garments?  That  is  a father, 
and  that  is  a mother,  whose  gray  hairs  are  coming  with 
sorrow  to  the  grave.  That  is  a sister,  weeping  over 
evils  which  she  can  not  arrest;  and  there  is  the  broken- 
hearted wife;  and  these  are  the  children — helpless  in- 
nocents! — for  whom  their  father  has  provided  no 
inheritance,  save  one  of  dishonor,  and  nakedness,  and 
woe! 

6.  And  is  this^  beloved  youth,  the  history  of  your 
course?  In  this  scene  of  desolation,  do  you  see  the 
image  of  your  future  selves?  Is  this  the  poverty,  and 
tlie  disease,  which,  as  an  armed  man,  shall  take  hold 
on  youl  and  are  your  relatives  and  friends  to  succeed 
those  who  now  move  on,  in  this  mournful  ^procession, 
weeping  as  they  go? 

7.  Yes,  bright  as  your  morning  now  opens,  and  high 
as  your  hopes  beat,  this  is  your  noon  and  your  night, 
unless  you  shun  those  habits  of  intemperance  which 
have  thus  early  made  theirs  a day  of  clouds  and  of 
thick  darkness.  If  you  frequent  places  of  evening  re- 
sort for  ^social  drinking;  if  you  set  out  with  drinking, 


i^JCLECTIC  SERIES.  85 

daily,  a little,  prudently,  i temperately ; it  is  yourselves^ 
which,  as  in  a glass,  you  behold. 

8.  “One  of  the  greatest  consolations  afforded  to  my 
mind  by  the  success  of  the  temperance  cause,  is  the  re- 
flection that  my  child  will  not  be  a drunkard.”  Such 

^ was  the  language  of  a distinguished  philanthropist,  as 
he  held  a listening  assembly  chained  by  the  voice  of  his 
■^eloquence. 

9.  Tc  'his  remark  the  heart  of  every  parent  f assents ; 
for  that  the  progress  of  the  temperance  cause  will  be  so 
great,  at  the  period  when  the  child,  which  is  now  an 
infant,  shall  come  upon  the  theater  of  life,  as  to  render 
all  use  of  ardent  spirit,  as  a drink,  ^disreputable,  can 
scarcely  be  questioned. 

10.  If  any  father  or  mother  could  lift  the  vail  of  futu- 
rity, and  read  on  the  page  of  coming  years,  that  the  son 
now  so  loved,  so  idolized,  perhaps,  would  become  a 
bloated,  polluted,  and  polluting  creature,  reeling  under 
the  *^‘influence  of  ardent  spirit,  the  remainder  of  life 
would  be  wretched.  To  such  a parent,  this  world  would, 
indeed,  be  a vale  of  tears;  and  the  silence  and  ^solitude 
of  the  tomb,  would  be  welcomed  as  the  place  where  tlie 
weary  might  be  at  rest. 

11.  The  temperance  ireform  does  in  fact  lift  the  vail 
of  years,  and  disclose  to  the  parents  of  the  present  gener- 
ation, their  children  and  children’s  children  freed  from 
all  the  woes  and  curses  of  drunkenness,  the  smile  of 
gratitude  upon  their  countenance,  and  the  language  of 
benediction  upon  their  lips. 

12.  “My  child  will  not  be  a drunkard!”  Cheering 
thought!  How  it  swells  the  heart  with  emotions  too  big 
for  utterance!  What  an  -^animating  prospect  does  it  open 
to  the  mind!  Alms-houses,  and  jails,  and  penitentiaries 
and  State-prisons  will  then  stand  only  as  so  many  mon- 
uments of  the  vices  of  an  age  gone  by;  and  the  evils 
consequent  upon  the  use  of  ardent  spirits  shall  exist  only 
upon  the  historian’s  page,  as  so  many  -^records  of  for- 
mer degeneracy  and  the  errors  of  mankind. 

QtrirsTTONs. — Wbn,t  is  a certain  security  against  intemperance? 


86 


N K W F I F TII  READER. 


LESSON  XIX. 


1.  Fes''-tal;  mirthful,  joyous. 
1.  Gar^-land-ed  ; v.  adorned  with 
wreaths  of  flowers. 

3 De-vo^-ted;  adj.  solemnly  set 
apart. 

4.  Ei^rHANCE^;  V.  increase. 

6.  Sun^-dered;  v,  separated. 

7.  Ma^-ni-ac;  a.  raving  with  mad- 

ness. 

».  Glim^-mer-ings;  n.  faint  view. 


8.  Ro^'-se-ate;  adj.  blooming, 
rosy. 

11.  Fel^-on;  n.  a public  criminal. 

12.  En-ti^-cing;  «f//.  attracting  to 
evil. 

12.  Spurned;  v.  rejected  with 
disdain. 

13.  Lure;  v.  to  attract,  to  entice. 

14.  En-ciiant^-ed  ; a.  affected  with 
enchantment,  bewitched. 


THE  FESTAL  BOARD. 

Articulate  distinctly  the  r in  the  following  words  found  in  thi? 
.esson:  bright,  there,  coral,  garlanded,  hair,  for,  ring,  silvery, 
pure,  art,  friendship,  are,  round,  rises,  merriest. 

1.  Come  to  the  festal  board  to-night, 

For  bright-eyed  beauty  will  be  there, 

Her  +coral  lips  in  nectar  steeped. 

And  garlanded  her  hair. 

2.  Come  to  the  festal  board  to-night. 

For  there  the  joyous  laugh  of  youth 
Will  ring  those  *^silvery  peals,  which  speak 
Of  bosoms  pure  and  stainless  truth. 

B.  Come  to  the  festal  board  to-night, 

For  friendship,  there,  with  stronger  chain, 
Devoted  hearts  already  bound 
For  good  or  ill,  will  bind  again. 

I went. 

4.  Nature  and  art  their  stores  '^outpoured ; 

Joy  beamed  in  every  kindling  glance; 

Love,  friendship,  youth,  and  beauty,  smiled  ; 
What  could  that  evening’s  bliss  enhance? 

We  parted. 

5 And  years  have  flown;  but  where  are  now 
The  guests,  who  round  that  table  met? 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


87 


Kises  their  sun  as  gloriously 
As  on  the  '^banquet’s  eve  it  set? 

C.  How  holds  the  chain  which  friendship  wove? 
It  broke;  and,  soon,  the  hearts  it  bound 
Were  Avidely  sundered;  and  for  peace. 

Envy,  and  "^strife,  and  blood,  were  found 

7.  The  merriest  laugh  which  then  Avas  heard 

Has  changed  its  tones  to  maniac  screams^ 
xls  half-quenched  memory  kindles  up 

Glimmerings  of  guilt  in  ^feverish  dreams. 

8.  And  Avhere  is  she,  whose  diamond  eyes 

Golconda’s  ^mrest  gems  outshone? 

Whose  roseate  lips  of  Eden  breathed? 

Say,  where  is  she,  the  '^'beauteous  one? 

9.  Beneath  yon  AvilloAv’s  drooping  shade. 

With  eyes  noAV  dim,  and  lijDS  all  pale, 

She  sleeps  in  peace.  Bead  on  her  urn, 

“A  hroken  hearth  This  tells  her  tale. 

10.  And  AAdiere  is  he,  that  toAAmr  of  strength. 

Whose  fate  with  hers,  for  life  was  joined  ? 
How  beats  liis  heart,  once  honor’s  throne? 
Hoav  high  has  '’'soared  his  daring  mind? 

11.  Go  to  the  dungeon’s  gloom  to-night: 

His  Avasted  form,  his  aching  head. 

And  all  that  noAV  remains  of  him^ 

Lies,  '’’shuddering,  on  a felon’s  bed. 

12.  Ask  you  of  all  these  Avoes  the  cause? 

The  festal  board,  the  enticing  bowl, 

More  often  came,  and  reason  fled. 

And  maddened  passions  spurned  '’’control. 

13  Learn  Avisdom,  then.  The  frequent  feast 
Avoid;  for  there,  with  stealthy  tread 
Temptation  walks,  to  lure  you  on. 

Till  death,  at  last,  the  banquet  spread. 


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NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


14.  And  shun,  oh,  shim,  the  enchanted  mjyl 

Though,  now,  its  '’'draught  like  joy  appears. 
Ere  long  it  will  he  fanned  by  sighs. 

And  sadly  mixed  with  blood  and  tears. 

Questions. — What  is  the  subject  of  this  piece?  What  is  meant  by 
the  “Festal  Board? What  dangers  lurk  around  it? 


EXERCISE  IX. 

The  range  of  the  valleys  is  his.  He  was  the  first  embassador 
sent  Swords  and  pens  are  both  employed.  I do  not  flinch  from 
argument.  He  never  winced,  for  it  hurt  him  not.  Do  not  singe 
your  gown.  Pluck’d  from  its  native  tree.  Nipt  in  the  bud.  Thoi: 
found’ st  me  poor,  and  keep’st  me  so. 


LESSON  XX. IS' 


2.  Dis-tinc''-tion  ; n,  a point  of 
dilference. 

2.  W"ig''-wam;  n.  an  Indian  hut. 

3.  Bur^-rows;  n.  holes  in  the 

earth  where  animals  lodge. 

4.  Drs-cus^-siON ; n.  arguing  a 

point. 


4.  Com-mu^-ni-ty;  n.  a society,  or 
collection  of  individuals. 

4.  Arch^-i-tects;  n.  those  who 
understand  building. 

6.  Me-dtc-'-tn-al ; adj.  heal- 
ing. 

8.  Rec^-ti-fi-ed  ; v.  corrected. 


MAN  AND  THE  INFERIOR  ANIMALS. 

Remark. — Recollect,  always,  that  you  have  it  in  your  power  to 
become  a good  reader,  by  attention,  study,  and  practice. 

Articulate  distinctly.  Do  not  say  diff’rence,  for  dif-fer-ence  ; 
in-struc,  for  in-struci5;  pro-vi-d’n,  for  pro-vid-m^;  ir-reg’lar,  for' 
ir-reg-2t-lar ; fac’l-ty,  for  fac-wl-ty. 

1.  The  chief  ’’'difference  between  man  and  the  other 
animals  consists  in  this,  that  the  former  has  reason, 
whereas  the  latter  have  only  instinct;  but,  in  order  to 
Linderstand  what  we  mean  by  the  terms  reason  and  in- 
stinct, it  will  be  ■’'necessary  to  mention  three  things,  in 
which  the  difference  very  ’’'distinctly^  appears.  * 

2.  Let  us, to  bring  the  parties  as  nearly  on  a 
level  as  possible,  consider  man  in  a sayage  state,  wholly 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


89 


■*'occui)ied,  like  the  beasts  of  the  field,  in  providing  for 
the  wants  of  his  animal  nature;  and  here,  the  first  dis- 
tinction that  appears  between  them  is,  the  use  of  imple- 
merits.  When  the  savage  ’’'provides  himself  with  a hut, 
or  a wigwam,  for  shelter,  or  that  he  may  store  up  his 
provisions,  he  does  no  more  than  is  done  by  the  rabbit, 
the  beaver,  the  bee,  and  birds  of  every  species. 

3.  But  the  man  can  not  make  any  ’’’progress  in  this 
work  without  tools ; he  must  provide  himself  with  an 
ax,  even  before  he  can  cut  down  a tree  for  its  timber ; 
whereas  these  animals  form  their  burrows,  their  cells, 
or  their  nests,  with  no  other  tools  than  those  with  which 
nature  has  provided  them.  In  ’’’cultivating  the  ground, 
also,  man  can  do  nothing  without  a spade  or  a plow ; 
nor  can  he  reap  what  he  has  sown,  till  he  has  shaped 
an  ’’’implement  with  which  to  cut  down  his  harvest. 
But  the  inferior  animals  provide  for  themselves  and 
their  young  without  any  of  these  things. 

4.  Now  for  the  second  distinction.  Man,  in  all  his 
’’’operations,  makes  mistakes;  animals  make  none.  Did 
you  ever  hear  of  such  a thing  as  a bird  sitting  on  a twig, 
lamenting  over  her  half-finished  nest,  and  puzzling  her 
little  head  to  know  how  to  complete  it  ? Or  did  you  ever 
see  the  cells  of  a bee-hive  in  clumsy,  irregular  shapes, 
or  observe  any  thing  like  a discussion  in  the  little  com- 
munity, as  if  there  was  a difference  of  opinion  among 
the  architects? 

5.  The  lower  animals  are  even  better  ’’’physicians  than 
we  are;  for  when  they  are  ill,  they  will,  many  of  them, 
seek  out  some  particular  herb  which  they  do  not  use  as 
food,  and  which  possesses  a medicinal  quality  exactly 
suited  to  the  complaint;  whereas,  the  whole  college  of 
physicians  will  dispute  for  a ’’’century  about  the  virtues 
of  a single  drug. 

6.  Man  undertakes  nothing  in  which  he  is  not  more 
or  less  puzzled ; and  must  try  numberless  ’’’experiments, 
before  he  can  bring  his  undertakings  to  any  thing  like 
perfection;  even  the  simplest  operations  of  ’’’domestic 
life  are  not  well  performed  without  some  ■’’ex})erience; 


90 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


and  the  term  of  man’s  life  is  half  wasted  before  he  has 
done  with  his  mistakes  and  begins  to  profit  by  his  lessons. 

7.  The  third  distinction  is,  that  animals  make  no 
'^im2')rovements ; while  the  knowledge,  and  skill,  and  the 
success  of  man  are  perpetually  on  the  increase.  Ani- 
mals, in  all  their  operations,  follow  the  first  impulse  of 
nature,  or  that  instinct  which  God  has  implanted  in 
them.  In  all  they  do  undertake,  therefore,  their  works 
are  more  perfect  and  regular  than  those  of  man. 

8.  But  man,  having  been  endowed  with  the  '^faculty 
of  thinking  or  reasoning  about  what  he  does,  is  enabled, 
by  patience  and  industry,  to  correct  the  mistakes  into 
which  he  at  first  falls,  and  to  go  on  constantly  improv- 
ing. A bird’s  nest  is,  indeed,  a perfect  '♦'structure;  yet’ 
the  nest  of  a swallow  of  the  nineteenth  century,  is  not 
at  all  more  '♦’commodious  or  elegant,  than  those  that 
were  built  amid  the  rafters  of  I^oah’s  ark.  But  if  we 
compare  the  wigwam  of  the  savage  with  the  temples 
and  '♦’palaces  of  ancient  Greece  and  Eome,  we  then  shall 
see  to  what  man’s  mistakes,  rectified  and  improved 
upon,  conduct  him. 

9.  When  the  vast  sun  shall  vail  his  golden  light 
Deep  in  the  gloom  of  everlasting  night; 

When  wild,  destructive,  flames  shall  wrap  the  skies 
When  ruin  triumphs,  and  when  nature  dies ; 

Man  shall  alone  the  wreck  of  worlds  survive; 

’Mid  falling  spheres,  immortal  man  shall  live. 

Questions. — ^What  is  the  subject  of  this  lesson?  What  three  things 
form  the  distinction  between  man  and  animals  ? What  is  instinct  ? 
What  is  the  difference  between  instinct  and  reason  ? Is  man  an 
animal  ? Is  man  superior  to  all  other  animals  ? In  what  does  the 
superiority  consist  ? What  does  this  enable  man  to  do  ? 

What  is  the  first  verb  in  the  last  sentence  ? In  what  mode,  tense, 
number,  and  person  is  it?  What  is  the  first  pronoun?  What  is  the 
first  noun?  In  what  number  and  case  is  it?  How  is  it  parsed? 
(See  Pinneo’s  Analytical  Grammar,  page  187,  Rule  VIII). 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


91 


' LESSON  XXI. 


i Un-oc'^-cu-pied  ; adj.  not  em- 
ployed or  taken  up.  [failing. 

4.  In-ex-iiaust^-i-ble  ; adj.  un- 

5.  CoN-siD-ER-A^-TiON ; Ti.  serious 

thought,  reflection. 

0.  Pre-serv^-a-tive;  w.  that  which 
keeps  from  injury. 

G.  Re-spons-i-bil^-i~ty  ; n.  the 
state  of  being  liable  to  answer 
or  account  for. 

7.  CuL-Ti-VA^-TiON ; n.  improve- 
ment by  study. 


8.  CoN^-GRESS  ; n.  the  legislature 
of  the  United  States. 

8.  Matii-e-ma-ti^-cians  ; n.  those 
versed  in  mathematics. 

9.  Scep^-ter;  n.  the  emblem  of 
kingly  power. 

12.  E-lec^-tion  ; n.  a choosing. 

15.  Pro-gres^-sion  ; n.  a moving 
forward. 

15.  Ap-prox-i-ma^-tion  ; n.  a near 
approach. 

15.  In-duce^-ment  ; n.  motive. 


VALUE  OF  TIME  AND  KNOWLEDGE. 

Pronounce  correctly.  Do  not  say  vdl-ew  for  val-?^e ; prod-i-gul 
for  prod-i-gal ; oc-ky-py-ing  for  oc-cw-py-ihg ; geth-er  for  gath-er ; 
as-tron-i-muz  for  as-tron-o-mers. 

Sound  the  unaccented  a properly  in  words  like  attention, pleasant^ 
importance,  mental,  capable,  &c. 

1.  Let  me  call  your  attention  to  the  ^importance  of 
improving  your  time.  The  infinite  value  of  time  is  not 
‘^'realized.  It  is  the  most  precious  thing  in  all  the  world; 
“the  only  thing  of  which  it  is  a virtue  to  be  covetous, 
and  yet  the  only  thing  of  which  all  men  are  ^prodigal.” 

2.  In  the  first  place,  then,  reading  is  a most  interest- 
ing and  pleasant  method  of  '^occujiying  your  leisure 
hours.  All  young  people  have,  or  may  have,  time 
enough  to  read.  The  difficulty  is,  they  are  not  careful 
to  improve  it. 

3.  Their  hours  of  ‘’‘leisure  are  either  idled  away,  or 
talked  away,  or  spent  fin  some  other  way  equally  vain 
and  useless;  and  then  they  complain,  that  they  have  no 
time  for  the  cultivation  of  their  minds  and  hearts. 

4.  Time  is  so  ‘’‘precious,  that  there  is  never  but  one 
moment  in  the  world  at  once,  and  that  is  always  taken 
away,  before  another  is  given.  Only  take  care  to  gather 
up  the  ‘’‘fragments  of  time,  and  you  will  never  want 


92 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


leisure  for  the  reading  of  useful  books.  And  in  whal 
way  can  you  spend  your  unoccupied  hours  more  pleas- 
antly, than  in  holding  *^converse  with  the  wise  and  the 
good,  through  the  '^medium  of  their  writings?  To  a 
mind  not  altogether  devoid  of  '^curiosity,  books  form  an 
inexhaustible  source  of  enjoyment. 

5.  It  is  a consideration  of  no  small  weight,  that  read- 
ing furnishes  material  for  interesting  and  useful  conver- 
sation. Those  who  are  ignorant  of  books,  must  of  course 
have  their  thoughts  confined  to  very  narrow  limits. 
What  occurs  in  their  immediate  neighborhood,  the  state 
of  the  market,  the  idle  report,  the  tale  of  scandal,  the 
foolish  story,  these  make  up  the  circle  of  their  knowl- 
edge, and  furnish  the  topics  of  their  conversation.  They 
have  nothing  to  say  of  importance,  because  they  know 
nothing  of  importance. 

6.  A taste  for  useful  reading  is  an  ‘^effectual  preserv- 
ative from  vice.  Next  to  the  fear  of  God,  implanted  in 
the  heart,  nothing  is  a better  safeguard  to  character, 
than  the  love  of  good  books.  They  are  the  handmaids 
of  virtue  and  religion.  They  quicken  our  sense  of  duty, 
unfold  our  responsibilities,  strengthen  our  ^principles, 
confirm  our  habits,  inspire  in  us  the  love  of  what  is 
right  and  useful,  and  teach  us  to  look  with  disgust  upon 
what  is  low,  and  groveling,  and  ^vicious. 

7.  The  high  value  of  '^mental  cultivation,  is  another 
weighty  motive  for  giving  attendance  to  reading.  What 
is  it  that  mainly  distinguishes  a man  from  a brute? 
Knowledge.  What  makes  the  vast  difference  there  is, 
between  savage  and  civilized  nations?  Knowledge. 
What  forms  the  '^principal  difference  between  men,  as 
they  appear  in  the  same  society?  Knowledge. 

8.  What  raised  Franklin  from  the  humble  station  of 
a printer’s  boy,  to  the  first  honors  of  his  country? 
Knowledge.  What  took  Sherman  from  his  shoemaker’s 
bench,  gave  him  a seat  in  Congress,  and  there  made  his 
voice  to  be  heard  among  the  wisest  and  best  of  his  com- 
peers? Knowledge.  What  raised  vSimpson  from  11ic 
weaver’s  ‘♦'loom,  to  a place  among  tlio  first  of  inatheimiti-' 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


93 


cians;  and  llerschcl,  from  being  a poor  lifer’s  boy  in  the 
army,  to  a station  among  the  first  of  astronomers? 
Knowledge. 

9.  Knowledge  is  jDOwer.  It  is  the  philosopher’s  stone, 
the  true  secret,  that  turns  every  thing  it  touches  into 
gold.  It  is  the  scepter,  that  gives  us  our  '^'dominion  over 
nature;  the  key,  that  unlocks  the  storehouse  of  creation, 
and  opens  to  us  the  treasures  of  the  "^universe. 

10.  The  circumstances  in'  which  you  are  placed,  as  the 
members  of  a free  and  '^'intelligent  '^community,  demand 
of  you  a careful  improvement  of  the  means  of  knowledge 
you  enjoy.  You  live  in  an  age  of  great  mental  excite- 
ment. The  public  mind  is  awake,  and  society  in  general 
is  fast  rising  in  the  scale  of  improvement.  At  the  same 
time,  the  means  of  knowledge  are  most  '^'abundant. 

11.  The  road  to  wealth,  to  honor,  to  'tusefulness,  and 
happiness  is  open  to  all,  and  all  who  will,  may  enter 
upon  it  with  the  almost  certain  '^prospect  of  success.  In 
this  free  community,  there  are  no  '^privileged  orders 
Every  man  finds  his  level.  If  he  has  talents,  he  will  be 
known  and  estiniated,  and  rise  in  the  respect  and  '^con- 
fidence of  society. 

12.  Added  to  this,  every  man  is  here  a freeman.  He 
has  a voice  in  the  election  of  rulers,  in  making  and  exe- 
cuting the  laws,  and 'may  be  called  to  fill  importaixl 
places  of  honor  and  trust,  in  the  community  of  which 
he  is  a member.  What  then  is  the  duty  of  persons  in 
these  '^circumstances?  Are  they  not  called  to  cultivate 
their  minds,  to  improve  their  talents,  and  to  acquire  the 
knowledge  which  is  necessary  to  '‘'enable  them  to  act 
with  honor  and  usefulness,  the  part  '‘'assigned  them  on 
the  stage  of  life? 

13.  A diligent  use  of  the  means  of  knowledge,  accords 
well  with  your  nature  as  rational  and  immortal  beings. 
God  has  given  you  minds  which  are  capable  of  '‘'indefi- 
nite improvement;  he  has  placed  you  in  circumstances 
^peculiarly  favorable  for  making  such  improvement; 
and,  to  inspire  you  with  diligence  in  mounting  up  the 
Khining  course  before  you,  he  points  you  to  the  ])ros])e{;1 
of  an  endless  ■‘'oxisteiice  beyond  the  grave. 


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NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


14.  If  you,  wlio  possess  these  powers,  were  destined, 
after  spending  a few  days  on  earth,  to  fall  into  non- 
existence; if  there  were  nothing  in  you  which  death 
can  not  destroy,  nor  the  grave  cover,  there  would  indeed 
be  but  little  inducement  to  cultivate  your  minds.  “For 
who  would  take  pains  to  trim  a taper  which  shines  but 
for  a moment,  and  can  never  be  lighted  again?” 

15.  But  if  you  have  minds  which  are  capable  of  end- 
less progression  in  knowledge,  of  endless  approximation 
to  the  supreme  intelligence;  if,  in  the  midst  of  '^unre- 
mitting success,  objects  of  new  interest  will  be  forever 
opening  before  you;  oh,  what  prospects  are  presented 
to  the  view  of  man ! what  strong  inducements  to  '**culti- 
vate  his  mind  and  heart,  and  to  enter  upon  that  course 
of  improvement  here,  which  is  to  run  on,  brightening 
in  glory  and  in  bliss,  ages  without  end ! 

Questions. — What  is  the  subject  of  this  lesson?  What  is plea- 
sant method  of  occupying  our  leisure  hours  ? For  what  does  reading 
furnish  materials  ? From  what  does  it  preserve  us  ? If  a man  has 
knowledge,  what  may  he  hope  for  ? What  peculiar  reasons  are  there 
why  American  children  should  cultivate  their  minds  ? 

In  the  last  sentence,  what  interjection  is  there?  What  is  an  inter- 
jection? What  does  the  word  mean?  Will  you  name  four  interjec- 
tions? Why  are  they  so  called?  See  Pinneo’s  Analytical  Gram- 
mar, page  20,  Art.  55. 

In  Grammatical  Questions  reference  will  hereafter  be  made  to 
Pinneo’s  Analytical  Grammar.  Such  questions  will  be  found  very 
profitable  and  interesting  to  the  pupil.  They  will  be  to  some  de- 
gree of  an  analytical  character,  as  this  not  only  increases  the  interest 
of  the  study,  but  gives  a more  comprehensive  and  philosophical  view 
of  the  structure  of  sentences. 


EXERCISE  X. 

Many  arks  were  seen.  They  harked  and  liowVd.  The  cidprit 
was  liurVd  from  the  rock.  Words,  words,  words,  my  lord.  Are  the 
goods  wharf  df  It  was  strongly  iirg^d  upon  him.  Remark^ d*st 
thou  that?  lie  snarls,  but  darei*  not  bite.  Arin^d,  say  ye?  Yes, 
arm^d,  my  lord 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


95 


LESSON  XXII.  w 


1 Skep^-tics;  n.  persons  who 

doubt  or  disbelieve  religious 
truth. 

2 De-base^-ment  ; n.  the  being 

sunk  or  degraded. 

2.  Un-per-vert^-ed  ; adj,  not 
turned  to  a wrong  use. 


2.  AVrithe;  v.  to  be  in  torture. 

3.  Un-sul^-li-ed;  adj.  not  stain- 

ed. 

3.  Wells;  v.  issues  forth  as  water 
does  from  the  ground. 

3.  Lave;  v.  wash,  bathe. 

3.  Dis-solv^-ing;  adj.  melting. 


CONSOLATION  OF  RELIGION  TO  THE  POOR. 

Remark. — This  lesson  requires  great  care,  and  must  be  read  in  a 
natural,  but  solemn  manner. 

Pronounce  correctly.  Do  not  saj  wid-der  for  wid-oz^;  voUum 
for  vol-ztme ; jpal-it  for  pal-ate ; pil-ler  for  pil-lozr. 

1.  There  is  a mourner,  and  her  heart  is  broken; 

She  is  a widow;  she  is  old  and  poor; 

Her  only  hope  is  in  the  sacred  token 
Of  +peaceful  happiness  Avhen  life  is  o’er;  ' 

She  asks  not  wealth  nor  pleasure,  begs  no  more 
Than  Heaven’s  '^delightful  volume,  and  the  sight 
Of  her  Kedeemer.  Skeptics!  would  you  pour 
Your  blasting  -i-yials  on  her  head,  and  blight 
Sharon’s  sweet  rose,  that  blooms  and  charms  her 
being’s  night? 

2.  She  lives  in  her  ‘^'affections ; foP  the  grave 
Has  closed  upon  her  husband,  children;  all 
Her  hopes  are  with  the  arms  she  trusts  Avill  save 
Her  ^treasured  jewels;  though  her  views  are  small, 
Though  she  has  never  mounted  high  to  fall 

And  writhe  in  her  debasement,  yet  the  spring 
Of  her  meek,  tender  feelings,  can  not  pall 
Upon  her  unperverted  ‘‘‘palate,  but  will  bring 
A joy  without  regret,  a bliss  that  has  no  sting. 

j 3.  Even  as  a fountain,  whose  unsullied  wave 
1 Wells  in  the  pathless  valley,  flowing  o’er 
I With  silent  waters,  kissing,  as  they  lave 


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NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


The  pebbles  with  light  trippling,  and  the  shore 
Of  tmatted  grass  and  flowers ; so  softly  pour 
The  breathings  of  her  bosom,  when  she  prays, 
Low-bowed,  before  her  Maker ; then,  no  more 
She  muses  on  the  griefs  of  former  days: 

Her  full  heart  melts  and  flows  in  Heaven’s  dissolving 
rays. 

4.  And  faith  can  see  a new  world,  and  the  eyes 
Of  saints  look  pity  on  her.  Death  will  come: 

A few  short  moments  over,  and  the  '*'prize 
Of  peace  eternal  waits  her,  and  the  tomb 
Decomes  her  fondest  pillow : all  its  gloom 
Is  scattered.  What  a meeting  there  will  be 
To  her  and  all  she  loved  while  here ! and  the  bloom 
Of  new  life  from  those  cheeks  shall  never  flee. 

There  is  the  health  which  lasts  through  all  -^-eternity. 

Questions. — Should  there  he  a pause  at  the  end  of  every  line  in 
poetry?  Should  the  voice  rise  or  fall  at  the  word  “night,’^  at  the 
end  of  the  first  stanza? 


LESSON  XXIII. 


4.  Glen;  n.  a valley. 

7.  A^-re-a;  n.  any  open  surface, 

or  space. 

8.  Ap-pend^-a-ges;  n,  things  ad- 

ded to  a greater  or  principal 
thing. 


SCENE  AT  THE  SANDWICH  ISLANDS. 

Remark.— Let  all  the  pupils  notice,  as  each  member  of  the  class 
reads,  where  a proper  pause  is  not  made  at  the  commas  and  other 
points. 

Articulate  distinctly.  Do  not  say  gath-er-in  for  gath-er-in// , 
for  ir-reg-M-lar;  difculty  iov  naVZ  for 

na-val ; in-fer’or  for  in-fe-n-or ; primHive  for  prim-t-tive  ; tn- 
vis’ble  for  in-vi-si-ble ; u-ni-vers’ly  for  u-ni-vers-al-ly. 

1.  At  an  early  hour  of  the  morning,  even  before  we 
had  taken  our  breakfast  on  board  the  ship,  a single 


1.  Ka-vine';  n.  (pro.  ra-veew ) a 

long  deep  hollow  in  the  earth, 
worn  by  a stream  of  water. 

2.  Quar^-ter-deck;  n.  that  part 

of  a ship’s  deck  which  lies 
toward  the  stern. 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


97 

^islander  here  or  there,  or  a group  of  three  or  four, 
wrapped  in  their  largo  mantles  of  various  hues  might  bo 
seen  winding  their  way  among  the  groves  fringing  the 
bay  on  the  east,  or  descending  from  the  hills  and  ravine 
on  the  north,  toward  the  chapel;  and  by  degrees  their 
numbers  increased,  till,  in  a short  time,  every  path  along 
the  beach,  and  over  the  uplands,  presented  an  almost 
t uninterrupted  procession  of  both  sexes  and  of  every 
age,  all  pressing  to  the  house  of  God. 

2.  So  few  '^canoes  were  round  the  ship  yesterday,  and 
the  landing  place  had  been  so  little  Hhronged,  as  our 
boats  passed  to  and  fro,  that  one  might  have  thought 
the  '^district  but  thinly  inhabited ; but  now,  such  multi- 
tudes were  seen  gathering  from  various  tdirections,  that 
the  exclamation,  “ What  crowds  of  people  I What  crowds 
of  people  W was  heard  from  the  quarter-deck  to  the  fore- 
castle. 

3.  Even  to  myself  it  was  a sight  of  surprise ; surprise 
not  at  the  magnitude  of  the  population,  but  that  the  ob- 
ject for  which  they  were  evidently  ^assembling,  should 
bring  together  so  great  a multitude.  And  as  my  thoughts 
•rre-echoed  the  words,  “What  crowds  of  people!”  '^re- 
membrances  and  -i-aftections  of  deep  power  came  over 
me;  and  the  silent  '*'musings  of  my  own  heart  were, 
“What  a change!  What  a happy  change!” 

4.  When  at  this  very  place,  only  four  years  ago,  the  . 
known  wishes  and  example  of  chiefs  of  high  authority, 
the  daily  ‘^'persuasion  of  teachers,  added  to  motives  of 
■^curiosity  and  novelty,  could  scarcely  induce  a hundred 
of  the  ■^‘inhabitants,  to  give  an  irregular,  careless,  and 
‘^impatient  ‘^'attendance  on  the  services  of  the  sanctuary. 
But  now, 

“ Like  mountain  ‘^torrents  pouring  to  the  main, 

From  every  glen  a living  stream  came  forth ; 

From  every  hill,  in  crowds,  they  hastened  down. 

To  worship  Him,  who  deigns,  in  humblest  fane, 

On  wildest  shore,  to  meet  th’  upright  in  heart.” 

5.  The  scene,  as  looked  on  from  our  ship  in  the  still- 
ness of  a brightly-bonTning  Rabbath  morning,  was  well 

ruL  R ,— 0 


98 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


+ca]culatcd,  with  its  +associations,  to  prepare  the  mmd 
for  strong  +iinprossions  on  a nearer  view,  when  the  tcon- 
clusion  of  our  own  public  worship  should  allow  us  to  go 
on  shore.  Mr.  Goodrich  had  +apprised  us,  that  ho  had 
found  it  expedient  to  hold  both  the  services  of  the  Sab  ■ 
bath  in  the  forepart  of  the  day,  that  all  might  have  tho 
benefit  of  two  sermons,  and  still  reach  their  abodes  be- 
fore +nightfall.  For, 

“Numbers  dwelt  '’'remote, 

And  first  must  "ttraverse  many  a weary  mile, 

To  reach  the  altar  of  the  God  they  love.” 

6.  And  it  was  arranged,  that,  on  this  occasion,  the  se- 
cond service  should  be  -^postponed  till  the  officers  should 
be  at  liberty  to  leave  the  ship.  It  was  near  twelve  o’clock 
when  we  went  on  shore  j the  captain  and  first  lieutenant, 
the  purser,  surgeon,  several  of  tho  '•'midshipmen,  and 
myself.  Though  the  services  had  commenced  when  we 
landed,  large  numbers  were  seen  circling  the  doors  with- 
out; but,  as  wo  afterward  found,  only  from  the  -timprac- 
ticability  of  obtaining  places  within. 

7.  The  house  is  an  immense  '•'structure,  capable  of  con- 
taining many  thousands,  every  part  of  which  was  filled, 
except  a small  area  in  front  of  the  pulpit,  w’here  seats 
were  reserved  for  us,  and  to  which  we  made  our  way,  in 
slow  and  tedious  'tprocession,  from  the  difficulty  of  find- 
ing a spot  to  place  even  our  footsteps,  without  treading 
on  limbs  of  the  people,  seated  on  their  feet,  as  closely, 
almost,  as  they  could  be  stowed. 

8.  As  we  entered,  Mr.  Goodrich  paused  in  his  sermon, 
till  we  should  be  seated.  I '•'ascended  the  pulpit  beside 
him,  from  which  I had  a full  view  of  fhe  ■^congregation. 
The'  suspense  of  attention  in  the  people  was  only  '•'mo- 
mentary, notwithstanding  the  entire  novelty  to  them  of 
the  laced  coats,  and  other  appendages  of  naval  uniform. 
I can  scarce  describe  the  emotions  experienced  in  glanc- 
ing an  eye  over  the  immense  niimber,  seated  so  thickly 
on%he  matted  floor  as  to  seem,  -^literally,  one  mass  of 
heads,  covering  an  area  of  more  than  nine  thousand 
square  feet.  The  sight  was  most  striking,  and  soon  be- 


ECLKCTIC  SERIES.  99 

came,  not  only  to  myself,  but  to  some  of  my  fellow-offi- 
cers, deeply  affecting. 

9.  I have  listened,  with  delightful  attention,  to  some 
of  the  highest  +eloquence,  the  pulpits  of  America  and 
England,  of  the  present  day,  can  boast.  I have  scon 
tears  of  +convietion  and  +penitence  flow  freely,  under 
the  sterner  truths  of  the  word  of  God;  but  it  was  left  for 
one  at  Hilo,  the  most  +obscure  corner  of  these  distant 
islands,  to  excite  the  liveliest  emotions  ev^er  experienced, 
and  leave  the  deepest  impressions  of  the  extent  and 
^unsearchable  riches  of  the  gospel,  which  I have  ever 
known. 

10.  It  seemed,  even  while  I gazed,  that  the  majesty  of 
that  Power  might  be  seen  rising  and  +erecting  to  itself 
a throne,  permanent  as  glorious,  in  the  hearts  of  these 
but  late  utterly  benighted  and  deeply  polluted  people. 
And  when  I compared  them,  as  they  had  once  been 
known  to  me,  and  as  they  now  appeared,  the  change 
seemed  the  effect  of  a tmandate  scarcely  less  mighty  in 
its  power,  or  speedy  in  its  result,  than  that  exhibited, 
when  it  was  said,  ^‘■Let  there  he  light,  and  there  was  light!” 

11.  The  depth  of  the  impression  arose  from  the  +irrc- 
sistible  +conviction  that  the  Spirit  op  God  was  there. 
It  could  have  been  nothing  else.  With  the  exception  of 
the  inferior  chiefs,  having  charge  of  the  district,  and 
their  dependents,  of  two  or  three  native  members  of  the 
church,  and  of  the  mission  family,  scarcely  one  of  the 
whole  multitude  was  in  other  than  the  native  dress,  the 
simple  garments  of  their  +primitive  state. 

12.  In  this  respect  and  in  the  +attitude  of  sitting,  the 
assembly  was  purely  pagan.  But  the  breathless  silence, 
the  eager  attention,  the  half-suppressed  sigh,  the  tear, 
the  various  feeling,  sad,  peaceful,  joyous,  ■‘'discoverable 
in  the  faces  of  many;  all  spoke  the  presence  of  an  invisi- 
ble but  ■‘"omnipotent  Power,  the  Power  which  alone  can 
melt  and  rerew  the  heart  of  man,  even  as  it  alone  first 
bi’ought  it  into  existence. 

13.  It  was,  in  a word,  a heathen  congregation  laying 
hold  on  the  hopes  of  eternity;  a heathen  congregation. 


100 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


fully  sensible  of  the  '^degradation  of  their  original  state: 
texiilting  in  the  first  beams  of  truth,  and  in  the  no  un- 
certain "^dawning  of  the  Sun  of  Righteousness;  thirsting 
after  knowledge,  even  while  they  sweetly  drank  the 
waters  of  life;  and,  under  the  inspiring  infiuence,  by 
every  look,  expressing  the  heartfelt  truth — “Beautiful 
on  the  mountains  are  the  feet  of  him  that  bringeth  good 
tidings;  that  bringeth  good  tidings  of  good,  that '*'pub- 
lisheth  salvation!” 

14.  The  simple  appearance  and  yet  Christian  '’'deport- 
men  t of  that  obscure  '’'congregation,  whom  I had  once 
known,  and  at  no  remote  period,  only  as  a set  of  rude, 
licentious,  and  wild  pagans,  did  more  to  rivet  the  con- 
viction of  the  divine  origin  of  the  Bible,  and  of  the  holy 
influences  by  which  it  is  accompanied  to  the  hearts  of 
men,  than  all  the  '’'arguments,  and  '’'apologies,  and  de- 
fenses of  Christianity  I ever  read. 

15.  An  entire  moral  '’'reformation  had  taken  place. 
Instruction  of  every  kind  is  eagerly  and  '’'universally 
sought,  and  from  many  a humble  dwelling,  now 

“Is  daily  heard 

The  voice  of  prayer  and  praise  to  Jacob’s  God: 

And  many  a heart  in  secret  heaves  a sigh. 

To  Him  who  hears,  well  pleased,  the  sigh  contrite.” 

•QuESTiONS.^Where  are  the  Sandwich  Islands?  For  what  object 
were  the  persons  assembled  as  described  in  this  lesson?  What 
change  has  taken  place  in  the  character  of  the  population  ? To  what 
is  this  change  to  be  attributed  ? Describe  their  appearance  as  seated 
in  the  church.  What  is  said  of  their  deportment?.  What  conviction 
is  all  this  calculated  to  produce? 

Which  are  the  adjectives  in  the  14th  paragraph?  Compare  each  of 
them  that  will  admit  it?  What  does  the  word  adjective  mean?  Why 
eo  called?  See  Pinneo’s  Analytical  Grammar. 


EXERCISE  XI. 

D-ay,  a~ge,  \-aw,  awe-di,  f-a-ther,  a-rm,  ih-ee,  ee-1,  oo-ze,  th-y,  i-slc, 
th-oii. 

We  have  c-rrM  and  str-ay’-d  from  thy  w-ay-s  like  1-o-st  sh-ee-p 
Sp-a-re  thou  those,  Oh  G-o-d,  who  confess  their  f-a7/-lts. 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


101 


LESSON  XXIV.2// 


1. 

1. 

4. 

4. 


Ex-te'-bi-or  11.  outward  ap- 
pearance. 

De-pict^-ei)  ; V.  painted,  repre- 
sented. 

Rev  '-e-nues  ; n.  annual  income 
from  taxes,  public  rents,  &c., 
belonging  to  the  public. 

As-sid^-u-ous;  adj.  very  care- 
ful and  attentive. 


4.  Fi-nance^;  n.  income  of  the 
king  or  state. 

Def^-i-cit  ; n.  deficiency,  want. 

6.  De-fault^-er  ; n.  one  who  fails 
to  account  for  public  money 
entrusted  to  his  care. 

9.  Ex-per-i-ment^-al;  adj.  deriv- 
ed from  experience. 

9.  Ix-juNC^-TiON  ; n.  a command 


THE  MANIAC.  A 

Pronounce  correctly  the  following  words  found  in  this  lesson. 

Do  not  say  fig-ger  for  fig-t^re;  sor-rer  for  sor-ro?«j;  mel-un~clinl~y 
for  mel-an-chol-y ; -nance  for  fi-nance^;  de-fif-cii  for  deP-i-cit; 
mis-cal-ky-la-tion  for  mis-cal-cu-lation. 

1.  A GENTLEMAN  who  had  traveled  in  Europe,  relates 
that  he  one  day  visited  tljc  hospital  of  Berlin,  where  he 
saw  a man  whose  exterior  was  very  striking.  His  figure, 
tall  and  ‘^commanding,  was  bending  with  age,  but  more 
vrith  sorrov/;  the  few  scattered  hairs  which  remained  on 
his  temples  were  white,  almost  as  the  driven  snow,  and 
the  deepest  ‘‘'melancholy  was  depicted  in  nis  countenance. 

2.  On  inquiring  who  he  was,  and  what  brought  him 
there,  he  started,  as  if  from  sleep,  and  after  looking 
around  him,  began  with  slow  and  measured  steps  to 
stride  the  hall,  repeating  in  a loVv  but  ‘‘‘audible  voice, 
‘‘Once  one  is  two;  once  one  is  two.” 

.3.  Now  and  then  he  would  stop  and  remain  with  his 
arms  folded  on  his  breast  as  if  in  +contem2)lation,  for 
some  minutes;  then  again  resuming  his  walk,  he  con- 
tinued to  repeat,  “Once  one  is  two^;  once  one  is  two^.” 
His  stoiy,  as  our  traveler  understood  it,  was  as  follows. 

4.  Conrad  Lange,  collector  of  the  revenues  of  the  city 
of  Berlin,  had  long  been  known  as  a man  whom  nothing 
could  divert  from  the  paths  of  honesty.  ‘‘‘Scrupulously 
exact  in  all  his  dealings,  and  assiduous  in  the  discharge 


102 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


of  all  his  duties,  he  had  acquired  the  good  will  and 
esteem  of  all  who  knew  him,  and  the  confidence  of  tho 
minister  of  finance,  whose  duty  it  is  to  inspect  the 
accounts  of  all  officers  connected  with  the  revenue. 

5.  On  casting  up  his  accounts  at  the  close  of  a par- 
ticular year^,  lie  found  a deficit^  of  ten  thousand  '•'ducats''. 
Alarmed  at  this  discovery^,  he  went  to  the  minister, 
presented  his  accounts,  and  informed  him  that  he  did 
not  know  how  it  had  arisen,  and  that  he  had  been  robbed 
by  some  person  bent  on  his  ruin^. 

G.  The  minister  received  his  accounts,  but  thinking 
it  a duty  to  secure  a person  who  might  probably  be  a 
defiiulter,  he  caused  him  to  be  arrested,  and  put  his 
accounts  into  the  hands  of  one  of  his  secretaries  for 
■•'inspection,  who  returned  them  the  day  after  with  the 
information  that  tlie  '•'deficiency  arose  from  a '•'miscalcu- 
lation; that  in  multiplying,  Mr.  Lange  had  said,  once  one 
is  two,  instead  of,  once  one  is  one. 

7.  The  poor  man  was  immediately  released  from 
■•■confinement,  his  accounts  returned,  and  the  mistake 
pointed  out.  During  his  imprisonment,  which  lasted 
two  days,  he  had  neither  eaten,  drank,  nor  taken  any 
repose;  and  when  he  appeared,  his  countenance  was  as 
pale  as  death.  On  receiving  his  accounts,  he  was  a long 
time  silent;  then  suddenly  awaking  as  if  from  a +trance, 
he  repeated,  “once  one  is  two.” 

8.  He  appeared  to  be  entirely  insensible  of  his  situa- 
tion; would  neither  eat  nor  drink,  unless  '•'solicited;  and 
took  notice  of  nothing  that  passed  around  him.  While 
rejieating  his  accustomed  phrase,  if  any  one  corrected 
him  by  saying,  “once  one  is  one;''  his  attention  was 
■•arrested  for  a moment,  and  he  said,  “ah,  right,  once 
one  is  one;”  and  then  resuming  his  walk,  he  continued 
to  repeat,  “once  one  is  two.”  He  died  shortly  after  the 
traveler  left  Berlin. 

9.  This  affecting  story,  whether  true^  or  untrue^, 
■•'obviously  abounds  with  lessons  of  instruction^.  Alas^I 
how  easily  is  the  human  mind  thrown  off  its  balance^; 
especially  when  it  is  stayed  on  this  world  only — and  has 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


KVi 


no  experimental  knowledge  of  the  meaning  of  the  in- 
junction of  Scripture,  to  cast  all  our  cares  upon  Him' 
who  careth  for  us,  and  who  heareth  even  the  young 
ravens  wh  en  they  cry. 

Questions. — Relate  the  story  of  Conrad  Lange.  What  does  it  teach 
ys? 

Give  the  rules  for  the  inflections  marked  in  the  3d  and  9th  para- 
graphs. What  part  of  speech  is  the  last  word  in  the  lesson? 


EXERCISE  XII. 

Prolong  the  sounds  of  the  vowels  that  are  italicized. 

W-a-r,  o-r-b,  p-w-re,  d-ot4?-n,  ai-d,  h-ow,  s-a-ve. 

Th-c-se  are  thy  gl-o-ri-ous  works,  p-a-rent  of  g-oo-d.  F-ai-rest  of 
st-a-rs ! L-a-st  in  the  tr-ai-n  of  n-i-ght.  H-o-ly,  h-o-ly,  h-o-ly,  a-rt 
th-ow,  Oh  L-o-rd!  H-ai-l,  h-o-ly  1-i-ght.  We  pr-ai-se  tli-ce,  Oh  L-o-rd 
G-o-d. 


LESSON  \XY.ZJ 


Hom^'-age;  n.  reverence  and 
service  paid  by  a subject  to 
his  king. 

Bar^-on  ; n.  a lord,  a nobleman. 
Duch'-y;  n.  the  territory  of  a 
duke. 

1.  Bark;  n.  a vessel,  a small 

ship. 

2.  Reck^-less;  adj.  thoughtless. 


3.  Fes^-tal;  adj.  pertaining  to  a 
feast,  gay. 

3.  Tourn^-ey;  n.  (pro.  turn'-y)  a 
kind  of  sport  in  which  per- 
sons tried  their  courage  and 
skill  in  fighting  with  the  lance 
and  sword. 

3.  Mtn^-strel;  n.  one  who  sings, 
and  plays  on  an  instrument. 


HE  NEVER  SMILED  AGAIN. 

Pronounce  correctly.  Do  not  say  Eiig-lund  for  Eng-land,  (pro. 
Ing-land);  re-cog^-niz'd  for  rec^-og-nized;  hull  for  whole ; hcerd 
for  heard;  for  glo-ri-ous ; for  min-strel ; toorn-y 

for  tourn-ey,  (pro.  turn-y.) 

Henry  I,  king  of  England,  who  commenced  his  reign 
A.  D.  1100,  had  a son  called  William,  a brave  and  noble- 
minded  youth,  who  had  arrived  at  his  eighteenth  year. 
The  king  loved  him  most  tenderly,  and  took  care  to 
have  him  '♦'recognized  as  his  successor  by  the  states  of 


i04 


NEV{  FIFTH  READER. 


England,  and  carried  him  over  to  Normandy,  in  the 
north  of  Franco,  to  receive  the  homage  of  the  barons  of 
that  duchy.  On  the  prince’s  return,  the  vessel  in  which 
he  ■’'embarked  was  ‘’'wrecked.  He  was  placed  in  a boat 
and  might  have  escaped,  had  he  not  been  called  back  by 
the  cries  of  his  sister.  He  '’'prevailed  on  the  sailors  to 
i’ow  back  and  take  her  in;  but  no  sooner  had  the  boat 
approached  the  Avreck,  than  numbers  who  had  been  left, 
jumped  into  it,  and  the  Avhole  were  drowned.  King 
Henry,  when  he  heard  of  the  death  of  his  son,  fainted 
away,  and  from  tliat  moment,  he  never  smiled  again 

1'  The  bark  that  held  the  prince  went  down, 

The  sweeping  waA^es  rolled  on^; 

And  Avhat  Avas  England’s  glorious  crown 
To  him  that  Avept  a son? 

He  liA"ed^~for  life  may  long  be  borne 
Ere  sorroAV  breaks  its  chain^; 

Still  comes  not  death  to  those  Avho  mourn ; 

He  never  smiled  again ! 

2.  There  stood  proud  forms  before  his  throne, 

The  ■’'stately  and  the  braA^e; 

But  Avhich  could  fill  the  place  of  one? 

That  one  beneath  the  Avave. 

Before^  him,  passed  the  3"oung  and  fair 
In  pleasure’s  reckless  ‘’'train^; 

But  seas  dashed  o’er  his  son’s  bright  hair; 

He  never  smiled  again  ! 

3.  He  sat  Avhere  festal  boAvls  Avent  round'", 

He  heard  the  minstrek  sing; 

He  saAA^  the  tourney’s  victor  croAvned 
Amid  the  mighty  ring^; 

A ■’'murmur  of  the  '’'restless  deep 
Mingled  with  CA^ery  strain, 

A A'oice  of  Avinds  that  would  not  sleep: 

He  neA'cr  smiled  again  ! 

4.  Hearts,  in  that  time,  closed  o’er  the  ■’'trace 

Of  IvoAA^s  once  fondly  poured*"; 


eclp:ctic  sekip:s. 


105 


And  '^'strcnigers  took  tbo  kinsman's^  place, 

At  many  a \joyous  board^, 

Graves^,  wliieli  true  love  had  bathed  with  tears, 
Were  left  to  heaven’s  bright  rain^; 

Fresh  hopes  were  born  for  other  years; 

Be  never  smiled  again ! 

Questions. — llelate  the  event  upon  v^hicli  this  poem  is  founded. 
How  long  since  did  it  happen?  Where  is  Normandy?  Explain  the 
meaning  of  the  third  stanza.  How  should  the  fourth  line  of  the 
second  stanza  be  read?  For  whom  does  “he”  stand,  in  the  last  line 
of  each  stanza? 

Give  the  rule  for  each  inflection  marked. 


EXERCISE  XIII. 

Prolong  the  sounds  of  the  vowels  that  are  italicized. 

A'-rr,  a-11,  <x-ge,  a-rm,  o-ld,  oil-t,  ee-\  h-oy^  i-sle. 

Our  Fa-ther,  who  art  in  Heaven.  “Woe  unto  thee,  Chorazial 
Wee  unto  thee,  Bethsaida ! 


LESSON  XXVI., 


3.  Re-du^oed  ; v,  brought  to  pov- 

erty. 

4.  Vi^-o-late;  v,  to  break,  R 

transgress. 

6.  In-vest^-i-gate;  v.  to  inquire 
into. 

6-  Di''-a-lect;  n.  a form  of 
speech. 


16.  Con-front^';  v.  to  stand  face  to 
face. 

I.  Im-pos^-tor  ; n.  a deceiver. 

7.  At-tor^-ney;  n.  a lawyer. 

7.  I-den^-ti-ty  ; n.  sameness. 

7.  Ex-tremM-ty;  n,  the  utmost 
distress.  [time. 

1 7.  Op-por-tu^-ni-ty  ; n.  suitable 


RESPECT  FOR  THE  SABBATH  REWARDED. 

Pronounce  correctly  the  following  words  found  in  this  lesson : 
Do  not  say  oc-ky-pa-tion  for  oc-cw-pation ; Us^n’d  for  list-en-ed, 
(pro.  lis^n^d) ; s?zWer  for  ceZ-lar ; op-per-siie  for  op-po-site  ; half- 
penny, pro.  hap-pen-ny  or  Jia-pen-ny. 

1.  In  the  city  of  Bath,  not  many  years  since,  lived  a 
barber,  who  made  a "^practice  of  following  his  ordinary 


i06 


NEW  FIFTH  READ  Ell. 


^occupation  on  the  Lord’s  day.  As  lie  was  pursuing  his 
morning’s  employment,  he  happened  to  look  into  some 
place  of  worship,  just  as  the  minister  was  giving  out  his 
text,  “ Ivernember  the  Sabbath  day,  to  keep  it  holy.” 
He  listened  long  enough  to  be  '^convinced  that  he  was 
constantly  breaking  the  laws  of  God  and  man,  by  shav- 
ing and  dressing  his  customers  on  the  Lord’s  day.  He 
became  uneasy  and  went  with  a heavy  heart  to  his  Sab- 
bath task. 

2.  At  length  he  took  courage,  and  opened  his  mind  to 
his  minister,  who  advised  him  to  give  up  Sabbath  dress- 
ing, and  worship  God.  He  replied,  that  "^beggary  would 
be  the  '‘’consequence.  He  had  a flourishing  trade,  but  it 
would  almost  all  be  lost.  At  length,  after  many  a sleep- 
less night  spent  in  weeping  and  praying,  he  was  deter- 
mined to  cast  all  his  care  upon  God,  as  the  more  he 
reflected,  the  more  his  duty  became  apparent^. 

3.  He  discontinued  Sabbath  dressing,  went  constantly 
and  early  to  the  public  '‘'services  of  religion,  and  soon 
enjoyed  that  ’‘’satisfaction  of  mind  which  is  one  of  the 
rewards  of  doing  our  duty,  and  that  peace  which 
the  world  can  neither  give  nor  take  away.  The  conse- 
quences he  foresaw,  actually  followed.  His  genteel  cus- 
tomers left  him,  and  he  was  nicknamed  a Puritan^,  or 
Methodist^.  He  was  obliged  to  give  up  his  fashionable 
shop,  and,  in  the  course  of  years,  became  so  reduced^,  as 
to  take  a cellar  under  the  old  market-house,  and  shave 
the  common  people^. 

4.  One  Saturday  evening,  between  light  and  dark,  a 
stranger  from  one  of  the  coaches,  asking  for  a barber, 
was  directed  by  the  ’‘’hostler  to  the  cellar  opposite. 
Coming  in  hastily,  he  requested  to  be  shaved  quickly, 
while  they  changed  horses,  as  he  did  not  like  to  violate 
the  Sabbath.  This  was  touching  the  barber  on  a tender 
cord.  He  burst  into  tears ; asked  the  stranger  to  lend 
him  a half-penny  to  buy  a candle,  as  it  was  not  light 
enough  to  shave  him  with  safety.  He  did*"  so,  revolving 
in  his  mind  the  ’‘'extreme  poverty  to  which  the  poor  man 
must  be  reduced. 

5.  When  shaved,  he  said,  “There  must  be  something 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


107 


^extraordinary  in  your  historj^,  wliieh  I have  not  now 
time  to  hear.  Here  is  half  a crown  for  you.  When  I 
return,  I will  call  and  investigate  your  case.  AVhat  is 
your  naine^?”  “ William  lieed^,”  said  the  astonished 
barber.  “ William  Keed  ?”  echoed  the  stranger  : “ William 
IH'ed^?  by  your  dialect  you  are  from  the  West^.”  “ Yes, 
sir,  from  Kingston,  near  Taunton.”  “William  Eeed^, 
frnm  Kingston^,  near  Taunton^?  What  was  your  fa- 
ther’s^ name  ?”  “Thomas^.”  “Had  he  any  brother?” 
“ Y cs,  sir,  one,  after  whom  I was  named  ; but  he  went  to 
the  Indies,  and,  as  we  never  heard  from  him,  we  sup- 
posed him  to  be  dead.” 

6.  “Come  along^,  follow  me^,”  said  the  stranger,  “I 
am  going  to  see  a person  who  says  his'^  name  is  William 
Eeed,  of  Kingston,  near  Taunton.  Come^  and  'tconfront'^ 
him.  If  you  prove  to  be  indeed  he  who  you  say  you 
are^,  I have  glorious  news  for  you.  Your  uncle  is  dead, 
and  has  left  an  Hmmense  fortune,  which  I will  put  you 
in  possession  of,  when  all  "^legal  doubts  are  removed.” 

7.  They  went  by  the  coach^ ; saw  the  tpretended  Wil- 
liam Eeed^,  and  proved  him  to  be  an  '^impostor.  The 
stranger,  who  was  a pious  attorney^,  was  soon  ^legally 
satisfied  of  the  barber’s  identity,  and  told  him  that  he 
had  ■^'advertised  him  in  vain.  "^Providence  had  now 
thrown  him  in  his  way  in  a most  '•'extraordinary  man- 
ner, and  he  had  great  pleasure  in  '^transferring  a great 
many  thousand  pounds  to  a worthy  man,  the  rightful 
heir  of  the  property.  Thus  was  man’s  extremity^,  God’s 
opportunity^.  Had  the  ])Oor  barber  possessed  one  half- 
penny^^ or  even  had  credit  for  a candle^^  he  might  have 
remained  unknown  for  years^  ; but  he  trusted  God,  who 
never  said,  “ Seek  ye  my  face  ” in  vain. 

Questions. — What  excited  the  barber’s  attention  on  the  subject  of 
keeping  the  Sabbath?  What  did  he  do  ? What  was  the  elfcct  upon 
his  business?  What  circumstance  led  to  his  becoming  acquainted 
with  the  fact  that  he  was  heir  to  a large  property  ? Who  evidently 
brought  about  all  these  things  ? 

Explain  the  inflections  marked  in  the  5th,  6th,  and  7th  paragraphs. 


108 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


LESSON  XXVII. ^7 


2.  Found^'-ed  ; V.  built,  estab* 

lished. 

3.  I!ab-it-a^-tion  ; n.  place  of 

abode. 

5.  Ref^'-uge;  n.  shelter,  protection. 

5.  Co^-NiES ; n.  a kind  of  rabbit. 

6.  Ap-point^-eth;  v.  ordains. 


7.  ManM-fold  ; adj.  numeroua 
various. 

7.  Ln-nu^-meh-a-ble  ; adj.  not  U 
be  counted. 

7.  Le-vi^-a-than  ; n.  a large  ani- 

mal living  in  the  water. 

8.  Re-new^-est;  makcst  new. 


THE  GOODNESS  OF  GOD. 

Pronounce  correctly.  Do  not  my  Lawd  for  Lord;  Gawd  for 
God;  cov-erst  for  cov-or-est ; ciir-taneiov  cur-tam  (pro.  cur-tin); 
cham-hers  for  cham-bers. 

1.  Bless  the  Lord,  Oh  my  soul!  Oh  Lord,  my  God! 
thou  art  very  great;  thou  art  clothed  with  "^honor  and 
majesty^:  who  coverest  thyself  with  light  as  with  a gar- 
ment; who  stretchest  out  the  heavens  like  a '^'curtain ; 
who  layeth  the  beams  of  his  chambers  in  the  waters; 
who  maketii  the  clouds  his  '»*chariot;  who  walketh  upon 
the  wings  of  the  wind;  who  maketh  his  angels  spirits, 
his  ministers  a flaming  fire;  who  laid  the  '^'foundations 
of  the  earth,  that  it  should  not  be  removed  for  ever. 

2.  Thou  coveredst  it  with  the  deep  as  with  a gar- 
ment: the  waters  stood  above  the  mountains.  At  thy 
'^I'cbuke  they  fled;  at  the  voice  of  thy  thunder  they 
hasted  away.  They  go  up  by  the  mountains;  they  go 
down  by  the  '^valleys  unto  the  place  which  thou  hast 
founded  for  them.  Thou  hast  set  a bound  that  they  may 
not  pass  over;  that  they  turn  not  again  to  cover  the 
eaidh. 

3.  He  sendeth  the  springs  into  the  valleys,  which 
run  among  the  hills.  They  give  drink  to  every  beast  of 
the  field;  the  wild  asses  quench  their  thirst.  By  them 
sluill  the  fowls  of  the  heaven  have  their  '‘'habitation, 
which  sing  among  the  branches.  He  watereth  the  hills 
from  his  chambers;  the  earth  is  '‘'satisfied  with  the  fruit 
of  thy  works. 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


109 


4.  He  causetli  the  grass  to  grow  for  the  cattle,  and 
herb  for  the  service  of  men,  that  he  may  bring  forth 
fruit  out  of  the  earth;  and  wine  that  makcth  glad  the 
heart  of  man,  and  oil  to  make  his  face  to  shine,  and 
bread  which  strengtheneth  man’s  heart. 

5.  The  trees  of  the  Lord  are  full  of  sap;  the  '^'cedars 
of  Lebanon,  which  he  hath  planted,  where  the  birds 
make  their  nests:  as  for  the  stork,  the  fir-trees  are  her 
house.  The  high  hills  are  a refuge  for  the  wild  goats, 
and  the  rocks  for  the  conies. 

6.  He  appointeth  the  moon  for  ^seasons;  the  sun 
knoweth  his  going  down.  Thou  makest  darkness,  and 
it  is  night,  wherein  all  the  beasts  of  the  forest  do  creep 
forth.  The  young  lions  roar  after  their  prey,  and  seek 
their  meat  from  God.  The  sun  ariseth,  they  gather 
themselves  together,  and  lay  them  down  in  their /^dens. 
Man  goeth  forth  unto  his  work,  and  to  his  labor  until 
the  evening. 

7.  Oh  Lord,  how  manifold  are  thy  works ! in  wisdom 
ha-st  thou  made  them  all:  the  earth  is  full  of  thy  riches. 
So  is  this  great  and  wide  sea,  wherein  are  things  creep- 
ing innumerable,  both  small  and  great  beasts.  There 
go  the  ships:  there  is  that  leviathan,  whom  thou  hast 
made  to  play  therein.  These  wait  all  upon  thee, -that 
thou  mayest  give  them  their  meat  in  due  season. 

8.  That  thou  givest  them  they  gather ; thou  openest 
thine  hand,  they  are.  filled  with  good.  Thou  hidest  thy 
face,  they  are  troubled:  thou  takest  away  their  breath, 
they  die,  and  return  to  their  dust.  Thou  sendest  forth 
thy  spirit,  they  are  created:  and  thou  renewest  the  face 
of  the  earth. 

9.  The  glory  of  the  Lord  shall  ’^endure  for  ever:  the 
Lord  shall  rejoice  in  his  Gvorks.  He  looketh  on  the 
earth,  and  it  trembleth:  he  toucheth  the  Idlls,  and  they 
smoke. 

10.  Oh  that  men  would  praise  the  Lord  for  his  good- 
ness, and  for  his  wonderful  works  to  the  children  of 
men!  And  let  them  sacrifice  the  ***sacrifices  of  thanks- 
giving, and  declare  his  works  Avith  '^rejoicing. 


110 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


11.  Oh  give  thanks  unto  the  Lord;  call  upon  his 
name;  make  known  his  deeds  among  the  people.  Sing 
unto  him,  sing  psalms  unto  him  : talk  ye  of  all  his  '^won- 
drous works.  Glory  ye  in  his  holy  name  : let  the  heart 
of  them  rejoice  that  seek  the  Lord.  Seek  the  Lord,  and 
his  strength  ; seek  his  face  '^evermore. 

12.  Remember  his  '^marvelous  works  that  he  hath 
done;  his  wonders,  and  the  judgment  of  his  mouth, 
lie  is  the  Lord  our  God ; his  '^judgments  are  in  all  the 
earth.  I will  sing  unto  the  Lord  as  long  as  I live:  1 
will  sing  jiraise  to  my  God  while  I have  my  being. 

Questions. — How  does  God  show  his  goodness  in  the  sea?  In  the 
springs  ? By  the  trees  ? By  the  sun  and  moon  ? What  should  all 
this  teach  us  ? 


EXERCISE  XIY. 

Prolong  the  sounds  of  the  italicized  vowels. 

Kn-oi«j,  fr-eg,  ih-ey,  d-ai(?n,  n-ow,  h-ay,  th-e-re,  sn-o-re. 

Soothed  with  the  sownd,  the  king  grezo  vain.  Ptoll  on,  thou  deep 
and  dark  hlue  ocean,  roll. 


LESSON  XXVIII.^/' 


3.  Txb^-er-na-cle;  n.  a tempora- 
ry habitation. 

6.  TestM-mo-ny;  n.  solemn  dec- 
laration. 

6.  Stat^-utes;  n.  written  laws. 


8.  Pre-suxAip^-tu-ous  ; adj.  bold, 
rash. 

8.  Do-min^-ion  ; n.  power,  controll- 

ing influence.  [of  law. 

9.  Trans-gres^-sion;  n.  violation 


NATURE  AND  REVELATION. 

Utter  distinctly  the  r,  giving  it  its  soft  sound,  in  the  following 
words  in  this  lesson:  declare,  there,  nor,  where,  their,  circuit, 
perfect,  converting,  sure,  pure,  enduring,  ever,  sweeter,  moreover. 

1.  The  heavens  declare  the  glory  of  God, 

And  the  '‘'firmament  showeth  his  'Liandiwork. 

Day  unto  day  '‘'uttereth  sjDeech, 

And  night  unto  night  showeth  knowledge. 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


Ill 


2.  TJiero  is  no  speech  nor  language, 

Whore  their  voice  is  not  heard. 

‘ Their  line  is  gone  out  through  all  the  earth, 

And  their  words  to  the  end  of  the  world. 

3.  In  thein  hath  he  set  a tabernacle  for  the  sun. 

Which  is  as  a ‘‘'bridegroom  coming  out  of  his  chamber, 
And  ‘‘‘rcjoiceth  as  a strong  man  to  run  a race. 

4.  His  going  forth  is  from  the  end  of  the  heaven, 

And  his  ‘^circuit  unto  the  ends  of  it: 

And  there  is  nothing  hid  from  the  heat  thereof. 

5.  The  law  of  the  Lord  is  perfect,  ‘‘‘converting  the  soul: 
The  testimony  of  the  Lord  is  sure,  making  wise  the 

simple; 

The  statutes  of  the  Lord  are  right,  rejoicing  the  heart. 

6.  The  ‘‘‘commandment  of  the  Lord  is  pure,  ‘‘‘enlightening 

the  eyes: 

The  fear  of  the  Lord  is  clean,  ‘‘‘enduring  for  ever: 

The  ‘‘■judgments  of  the  Lord  are  true  and  ‘‘‘righteous 
altogether. 

7.  More  to  be  desired  are  they  than  gold,  yea,  than 

much  fine  gold ; 

Sweeter  also  than  honey  and  the  honey-comb. 
Moreover  by  them  is  thy  servant  warned : 

And  in  keeping  of  them  there  is  great  reward. 

,8.  Who  can  ‘‘‘understand  his  ‘‘‘errors? 

Cleanse  thou  me  from  secret  faults ; 

Keep  back  thy  servant  also  from  presumptuous  sms; 
Let  them  not  have  dominion  over  me. 

9 Then  shall  I be  upright. 

And  I shall  be  ‘‘‘innocent  from  the  great  transgression 
Let  the  words  of  my  mouth,  and  the  ‘‘‘meditation  of 
my  heart, 

Ee  ‘‘‘acceptable  in  thy  sight. 

Oh  Lord,  my  strength,  and  my  ‘‘‘Eedeemer! 

Questions. — What  is  the  character  of  God,  as  exhibited  by  the 


il2 


NKAV  FIFTH  KFADEU. 


works  of  nature?  What  is  the  character  and  influence  of  the  law  of 
God?  How  can  a man  be  kept  from  sin? 

In  the  8th  paragraph,  which  are  the  pronouns?  What  does  the 
word  pronoun  mean?  Which  is  the  interrogative  pronoun  in  that 
paragraph?  Which  are  the  nouns  in  the  plural  number?  IVhich,  in 
the  singular?  Which,  of  the  neuter  gender? 

What  is  the  subject  of  the  sentence  forming  the  first  line  in  this  lesson? 
(See  Pinneo’s  Analytical  Grammar,  page  129,  iVrt.  251,  253).  What 
is  the  attribute  of  the  same  sentence?  (See  page  135,  Art.  261,  264). 


LESSON  XXlX.l  9 


CoN-TRAST^-En ; adj.  set  in  op- 
position. 

So-LiL^-o-QUiES ; n.  talking  to 
one’s  self. 

2.  Pe-ri-od^-ic-al  ; adj.  performed 
regularly  in  a certain  time. 

2.  PvEv-o-LU^-TiON ; n.  circular  mo- 

tion of  a body  on  its  axis. 

3.  An^-a-lyzed;  v.  separated  into 

the  parts  which  compose  it. 
i.  Grav-i-ta^-tion  ; n.  the  force 
by  which  bodies  are  drawn  to 
the  center. 

5.  Nat^-u-ral-ist;  n.  one  that 
studies  natural  history;  as, 
the  history  of  plants,  ani- 
mals, &c. 


5.  Vi-TAL^-i-TY ; n.  principle  of 
life.  [surface. 

5.  En-am^-el  ; V.  to  form  a glossy 

6.  Ap-prox-i-ma^-tion;  %.  ap- 
- proach. 

6.  CoG-i-TA^-TiONS ; n.  thoughts. 
6.  Ev-o-lu^-tioxs;  n.  flying  back- 
ward and  forward. 

6.  Kus^-tic  ; n.  one  who  lives  in 
the  country. 

7.  Met-a-phys^-ic-al  ; adj.  relat- 
ing to  the  science  of  mind. 

7.  Vo-Li^-TiON  ; n.  the  act  of  will- 
ing or  determining. 

8.  Im''-po-tence  ; n.  want  of  power. 
13.  Ac-co:.P-pltshed  ; a.  having  a 

finished  education. 


CONTRASTED  SOLILOQUIES. 

Pronounce  correctly.  Do  not  say  nar-rer  for  nur-TOW ; pen-it-rate 
f]()r  pen-c-trate;  se-crits  for  se-crets ; na-ter  nor  na-tshiire  iov 
titre ; he-yend  for  be-yond  ; cal-ky-late  for  cal-cw-late ; an-er-lyz'd 
for  an-a-lyz’d ; nat-shu-raldst  for  nat-i^-ral-ist ; spec-ky-late  for 
spec-w-late ; jlune-cy  for  flu-en-cy ; pi-an-ner  for  pi-an-o  ; per-tic- 
er-lul-ly  for  par-tic-w-lar-ly. 

1.  “Alas^!”  exclaimed  a silver-headed  sage,  “how 
narrow  is  the  utmost  extent  of  human  tscience^!  how 
tcircumscribed  the  sphere  of  intellectual  exertion!  I 
have  spent  my  life  in  acquiring  knowledge;  hut  how 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


113 


little  do  1 know!  The  further  I attempt  to  ‘^penetrate 
the  secrets  of  nature^,  the  more  I am  "^bewildered  and 
+benig-}ited^.  Beyond  a certain  liinit^,  all  is  but  con- 
fusion or  '‘'conjecture’^;  so  that  the  advantage  of  the 
lej^med  over  the  ignorant^,  consists  chiefly  in  having 
■‘'ascertained  how  little  is  to  be  known. 

2.  “It  is  true  that  I can  measure  the  sun^,  and  com- 
pute the  distances  of  the  planets^;  I can  calculate  their 
periodical  movements^,  and  even  ascertain  the  laws  by 
which  they  perform  their  sublime  revolutions^;  but  with 
regard  to  their  ‘‘'construction^,  and  the  beings  which  in- 
habit them,  what  do  I know  more  than  the  clown^? 

3.  “Delighting  to  examine  the  economy  of  nature  in 
our  own^  world,  I have  analyzed  the  elements,  and 
have  given  names  to  their  component  parts^.  And  yet, 
should  I not  be  as  much  at  a loss  to  explain  the  burning 
of  fire,  or  to  account  for  the  liquid  quality  of  water,  as 
tlie  vulgar,  who  use  and  enjoy  them  without  thought  or 
examination^? 

4.  “I  remark  that  all  bodies,  unsupported,  fall  to  the 
ground;  and  I am  taught  to  account  for  this  by  the  law 
of  gravitation.  But  what  have  I gained  here  more  than 
a term'^f  Does  it  convey  to  my  mind  any  idea  of  the 
nature'  of  that  mysterious  and  invisible  chain  which 
draws  all  things  to  a common  center?  I observe  the 
effect^,  I give  a name  to  the  cause^;  but  can  I explain  or 
comprehend'  it? 

5.  “Pursuing  the  track  of  the  naturalist,  I have 
learned  to  distinguish  the  animal^  ^vegetable^  and  "^mineral 
kingdoms;  and  to  divide  these  into  their  distinct  tribes 
and  families;  but  can  I tell,  after  all  this  toil,  whence  a 
single  blade  of  grass  derives  its  vitality^?  Could  the 
most  minute  researches  enable  me  to  discover  the  '‘'ex- 
quisite pencil,  that  paints  and  fringes  the  flower  of  the 
fiekD?  Have  I ever  detected  the  secret,  that  gives  their 
brilliant  dye  to  the  ruby  and  the  emerald,  or  the  art 
that  enamels  the  delicate  shelP? 

6.  “I  observe  the  '‘‘sagacity  of  animals^;  I call  it 
^ instincts y and  speculate  u[)on  its  various  degrees  of 

fldi  H.-  - i J 


114 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


approximation  to  tlio  reason  of  man.  But,  after  all,  1 
know  as  little  of  the  cogitations  of  the  brute,  as  he  does 
of  mine.  When  I see  a flight  of  birds^  overhead,  per- 
forming their  evolutions^,  or  steering  their  course  to 
some  distant  settlement^,  their  signals  and  cries  are  as 
^unintelligible  to  me,  as  are  the  learned  languages  to 
the  unlettered  rustic.  I understand  as  little  of  their 
laws,  as  they  do  of  Blackstone’s  Commentaries. 

7.  “But,  leaving  the  material  creation,  my  thoughts 
have  often  ascended  to  loftier  subjects,  and  indulged  in 
metaphysical  speculation.  And  here,  while  I easily  per- 
ceive in  myself  the  two  distinct  qualities  of  matter  and 
mind,  I am  baffled  in  every  attempt  to  comprehend  their 
mutual  dependence  and  ^mysterious  connection.  When 
my  hand  moves  in  obedience  to  my  will,  have  I the  most 
distant  ^conception  of  the  manner  in  which  the  volition 
is  either  teommunicated  or  understood?  Thus,  in  the 
exercise  of  one  of  the  most  simple  and  ordinary  actions, 
I am  perplexed  and  confounded,  if  I attempt  to  account 
for  it. 

8.  “Again,  how  many  years  of  my  life  were  devoted 
to  the  "^acquisition  of  those  languages^  by  the  means  of 
which  I might  explore  the  '^'records  of  remote  ages,  and 
become  familiar  with  the  learning  and  +literature  of 
other  times!  And  what  have -I  gathered  from  these, 
but  the  ^mortifying  fact,  that  man  has  ever  been  strug- 
gling with  his  own  impotence,  and  vainly  endeavoring 
to  overleap  the  bounds  which  limit  his  anxious  in- 
quiries 1 

9.  “Alas  I then,  what  have  I gained  by  my  ^laborious 
■^researches,  but  a humbling  "^conviction  of  my  weak- 
ness and  ignorance!  How  little  has  man,  at  his  best 
estate,  of  which  to  boast ! What  folly  in  him  to  glory 
in  his  contracted  power,  or  to  value  himself  upon  his 
imperfect  "^acquisitions!” 


10.  “Well^,”  exclaimed  a young  lady,  just  returned 
from  school,  “my  education  is  at  last  flnished^!”  In- 
deed, it  would  be  strange,  if,  after  five  years’  hard 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


115 


’■application^,  any  thing  were  left  incomplete’".  Hap- 
pily, t/mt  is  all  over  noAv;  and  I have  nothing  to  do,  but 
to  ■’’exercise  my  various  ‘’'accoinjilishments^. 

11.  “Let  me  see'!  As  to  French',  I am  complete 
mistress  of  that,  and  speak  it,  if  possible,  with  more 
■^fluency  than  English'.  Italian'  I can  read  with  ease, 
and  pronounce  very  well';  as  well,  at  least,  as  any  of 
my  friends;  and  that  is  all  one  need  wish  in  Italian. 
Music'  I have  learned  till  I am  perfectly  sick"  of  it. 
But,  now  that  we  have  a grand  piano,  it  will  be  delight 
lul  to  play  when  we  have  company;  I must  still  con- 
tinue to  practice  a little  ;■  the  only  thing,  I think,  that  I 
need  now  to  improve  myself  in.  And  then  there  are 
my  Italian  songs'!  which  every  body  allows  I sing  with 
taste;  and  as  it  is  what  so  few  people  can  pretend  to  I 
am  particularly  glad  tliat  I can, 

12.  “My  drawings  are  universally  admired;  especially 
the  shells  and  flowers,  which  are  beautiful,  certainly: 
beside  this,  I have  a decided  taste  in  all  kinds  of  fancy 
ornaments.  And  then  my  dancing'  and  -^waltzing'-,  in 
which  our  master  himself  owned  that  he  could  take  me 
no  further;  just  the  figure'  for  it,  certainly;  it  would 
be  unpardonable  if  I did  not  •’■excel. 

^13.  “As  to  cSmmon  things,  and  Aiston/,  and 

'poetnj  and  philosophy;  thank  ray  stars,  I have  got 
through  them  all!  so  that  I may  consider  myself  Lt 
only  perfectly  accomplished,  but  also  thoroughly  well 
informed.  Well',  to  be  sure',  how  much  I have  +fligged 
through  1 The  only  wonder'  is,  that  one  head  can  ^con- 
tain'^  it  all  I” 

Questions— Wh,at  is  the  substance  of  the  old  man’s  soliloquy? 
What  IS  the  substance  of  the  young  lady’s?  Which  reasons  most 
correctly?  ’iVhat  feeling  is  manifested  by  the  old  man  in  view  of  his 
attainments?  What  by  the  young  lady?  Will  those  who  are  really 
learned  and  wise,  generally  be  vain? 

What  inflection  is  that  marked  at  the  words  “common,^'  ‘‘geogra- 
phy,  &c  in  Uie  13th  paragraph?  What  does  it  indicate  here?  (See 
page  23.)  With  what  are  these  words  contrasted? 

How  are  the  words  “dancing”  and  “waltzing,”  in  the  12th  para 
graph,  parsed?  See  Pinneo’s  Analytical  Grammar,  Rule  V- 


116 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


EXERCISE  XV. 

Give  a full  and  distinct  sound  to  the  italicized  consonants. 

J5-0W,  c?-are,  y^ame,  ^-ave,  ^-orse,  ^-ew,  /c-ite,  Z-ord,  m-an,  n-o, 
2-ueer,  r-ow,  5-ir,  ^-ake,  «;-ow,  w-oq,  ?/-e,  ^A-ose,  i^^-umb,  wli-Viiy  5^-ow, 
c/i-urch. 


LESSON  XXXj)^ 


1.  Tin^-y;  adj.  very  small,  little, 
puny. 

3.  Sa-lute^;  n.  greeting. 

3.  Mun^-dane;  adj.  belonging  to 

the  world. 

4.  IIe-tort^;  n.  the  return  of  an 

incivility. 


4.  Per^'-son-age;  n.  a person  of 

importance. 

5.  Peer^-ing;  ac?/.  just  coming  up. 

6.  Cum^ber-er;  n.  one  who  hin- 

ders or  is  troublesome. 

6.  Vaunt^-ing;  ac^‘.  vainly  boast- 
ing. 


THE  PEBBLE  AND  THE  ACORN— A FABLE. 

Pronounce  correctly.  Do  not  say  per-son-ij  for  per-son-age; 
for  sub-duM ; to-ward^  ioY  to^-ward;  for-git  for  for-get; 
yit  for  yet. 

1.  ‘‘I  AM  a Pebble^!  and  yield  to  none>!’’ 

Were  the  swelling  words  of  a tiny  stone; 

“ISTor  time  nor  seasons  can  alter  me; 

I am  "tabiding,  while  ages  flee. 

, The  ^pelting  hail  and  the  *^driveling  rain 
Have  tried  to  soften  me,  long,  in  vain ; 

And  the  tender  dew  has  sought  to  melt 
Or  touch  my  heart ; but  it  was  not  felt^. 

2.  ‘‘There’s  none  that  can  tell  about  my  birth, 

For  I ’m  as  old  as  the  big,  round  earth. 

The  children  of  men  arise,  and  pass 
Out  of  the  world like  blades  of  grass; 

And  many  a foot  on  me  has  trod^, 

That’s  gone  from  sight,  and  under  the  ^sod^I 
I am  a Pebble^!  but  who  art  thou'^, 

' Rattling  along  from  the  restless  bougli?” 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


. i lie  Acorn  was  shocked  at  this  rude  salute, 
And  lay  for  a moment,  abashed  and  mute'; 
bhe  never  before  had  been  so  ne.ii- 
his  gravelly  hall,  the  mundane  +sphere'- 
And  she  felt,  for  a time,  at  a loss  to  know’ 
diow  to  answer  a thing  so  coarse  and  low. 


117 


4.  But  to  give  reproof  of  a nobler  sort 
lhan  the  angry  look-  or  keen  retort-; 

uQ-  a gentle  tone: 

bince  It  has  happened  that  I am  thrown 
From  the  lighter  element,  where  I grew 
Down  to  another,  so  hard  and  new, 

And  beside  a +personage  so  +august-, 

Abased,  I will  cover  my  head  in  dust', 

And  quickly  retire  from  the  sight  of  one 
Whom  time'  nor  season',  nor  storm',  nor  sun' 
01  the  gentle  dew',  nor  the  grinding  heel- 
Das  ever  subdued,  or  made  to  feel'i”  ’ 

And  soon,  in  the  earth,  she  sunk  away 
From  the  comfortless  spot  where  the  Pebble  lay. 


Dill  It  was  not  long  ere  the  soil  was  broke 
.by  the  peering  head  of  an  infant  oak'; 

'I  branches  spread, 

llic  lebble  looked  up,  and  wondering  said: 

A modest  Acorn''!  never  to  tell 

What  was  enclosed  in  its  simple  shell' f 

ihat  the  pride  of  the  forest  was  folded  up 

in  the  narrow  space  of  its  little  cup'i 

And  meekly  to  sink  in  the  -^darksome  earth. 

Which  proves  that  nothing  could  hide  its  worth! 


6 And  on!  how  many  will  tread  on  mo 
^ come  and  admire  the  beautiful  tree  ’ 
Whose  head  is  +towering  toward  the  sky 
Above  such  a worthless  thing  as  I't 
Useless  and  vain,  a cumberer  here 
I have  been  idling  from  year  to  year. 

But  never  from  this,  shall  a vaunting  word 
roin  the  humble  Pebble  again  bo  heard. 


FIFTH  READER. 

Till  something,  without  me  or. within,  ^ 

Shull  show  the  purpose  for  which  I have  been. 

The  Pebble  its  vow  could  not  forget. 

And  it  lies  there  wrapped  in  silence  yet. 

QvrsrioNS.-What  was  the  boast?  didTt 

SLlstheiaorat  ot  this 

“at  words  in  the  fourth  paragraph  form 

(u  time— heel.’  ’ ) G ive  the  reasons  for  the  other  inflections  m 


LESSON  XXXI.' 


1.  At-test^;  iJ.  to  bear  Tvitness  to. 

3.  Ac  ^-TioN ; n.  a claim  made  be- 
fore a court. 

3.  As-si^-zes;  n.  a court  of  justice. 

6.  RlaintMff;  ?2.  the  person  who 

commences  a suit  at  court. 

7.  Rre-ca^-ri-oxjs;  aij.  uncertain. 
7.  .TtZ-ry-man;  n.  one  Avho  serves 

' on  a jury,  and  whose  business 
it  is  to  hear  the  evidence  and 
decide  which  party  is  rig^t  in 
any  given  case. 

7.  Ex-cept^;  V.  to  object. 


10.  Dex^-trous;  ct.  skillful,  artful. 

10.  Ad-du^ced;  V.  brought  for- 
ward in  argument. 

11.  Plead^-er;  n.  one  that  argues 
in  a court  of  justice,  [on  oath. 

11.  De-po^sed;  V.  gave  evidence 

11.  Ver^-dict;  n.  the  decision  of 
a jury  concerning  the  matter 
referred  to  them,  [of  a jury. 

12.  Fore^-man;  n.  the  chief  man 
14  Dem-on-stra^-tion;  n.  certain 

proof. 

15.  Sopii^-ist-ry;  n.  false  reason- 


THE  JUST  JUDGE. 

Ihp  followinG^  words  in  this  lesson.  Do  nol 

e-Wn). 

1 A GENTLEMAN  xvlio  possessed  an 


ECLECTIC  SERIES.  119 

brother  was  dead,  and  ^bribed  false  witnesses  to  attest 
the  truth  of  it. 

2.  In  the  course  of  time,  the  elder  brother  returned; 
but  came  home  in  '^destitute  circumstances.  His 
younger  brother  repulsed  him  with  scorn,  and  told  him 
that  he  was  an  '^'impostor  and  a cheat.  He  asserted  that 
his  real  brother  was  dead  long  ago;  and  he  could  bring 
witnesses  to  prove  it.  The  poor  fellow,  having  neither 
money  nor  friends,  was  in  a sad  situation.  He  went 
round  the  parish  making  complaints,  and,  at  last,  to  a 
lawyer,  who,  when  he  had  heard  the  j^oor  man’s  story, 
replied,  You  have  nothing  to  give  me.  If  I undertake 
your  cause  and  lose^  it,  it  will  bring  me  into  '•''disgrace, 
as  all  the  wealth  and  '^'evidence  are  on  your  brother’s 
side. 

3.  ^‘However,  I will  undertake  it  on  this  condition; 
you  shall  enter  into  an  '^obligation  to  pay  me  one  thou- 
sand guineas,  if  I gain  the  estate  for  you.  If  I lose^  it, 
I know  the  consequences^;  and  I venture  with  my  eyes 
open^.”  Accordingly,  he  entered  an  action  against  the 
younger  brother,  which  was  to  be  tried  at  the  next  gen- 
eral assizes  at  Chelmsford,  in  Essex. 

4.  The  lawyer,  having  engaged  in  the  cause  of  the 
young  man,  and  being  '^'stimulated  by  the  jirospect  of 
a thousand  guineas,  set  his  wits  to  work  to  contrive  the 
best  method  to  gain  his  end.  At  last,  ho  hit  upon  this 
happy  thought,  that  ho  would  consult  the  first  judge  of 
his  age.  Lord  Chief  Justice  Hale.  Accordingly,  he  has- 
tened up  to  London,  and  laid  open  the  cause,  and  all  its 
circumstances.  The  judge who  was  a great  lover  of 
justice^,  heard  the  case  attentively,  and  j^romised  him 
all  the  assistance  in  his  power^. 

5.  The  lawyer  having  taken  leave,  the  judge  con- 
trived matters  so  as  to  finish  all  his  business  at  the 
King’s  Bench,  before  the  assizes  began  at  Chelmsford. 
When  within  a short  distance  of  the  place,  he  dismissed 
his  man  and  horses,  and  sought  a single  house.  He 
found  one  occupied  by  a miller.  After  some  conversa- 
tion, and  making  himself  qufte  agreeable,  he  proposed 
to  the  miller  to  change  clothes'^  with  him.  As  the  judge 


120 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


had  a very  good^  Buit  on,  the  man  had  no  reason  to 
object. 

6.  Accordingly,  the  Judge  shifted  from  top  to  toe, 
and  put  on  a complete  suit  of  the  miller’s  best.  Armed 
with  a miller’s  hat,  and  shoes,  and  stick,  he  walked  to 
Chelmsford,  and  ^procured  good  lodgings,  suitable  for 
the  assizes,  that  should  come  on  next  day.  When  the 
trials  came  on,  he  walked  like  an  ignorant  country 
fellow,  backward  and  forward  along  the  county  hall. 
He  observed  narrowly  what  passed  around^  him;  and 
when  the  court  began  to  filP,  he  found  out  the  poor 
fellow  who  was  the  plaintiffs. 

7.  As  soon  as  he  came  into  the  hall,  the  miller  drew 
up  to  him.  “Honest  friend^,”  said  he,  “how  is  your 
cause  like  to  go^  to-day?”  “Why,  my  cause  is  in  a very 
precarious  situation,  and,  if  I lose  it,  I am  ruined  for 
life.”  “Well,  honest  friend^,”  replied  the  miller,  “will 
you  take  my  advice^?  I will  let  you  into  a secret^, 
which  perhaps  you  do  not  know"^ ; every  Englishman  has 
the  right  and  privilege  to  except  against  any  one  jury- 
man out  of  the  whole  twelve;  now  do  you  insist  uj)on 
your  "^privilege,  without  giving  a reason,  and,  if 
possible,  get  me  chosen  in  his  room,  and  I will  do  you 
all  the  service  in  my  power.” 

8.  Accordingly,  when  the  clerk  had  called  over  the 
names  of  the  jurymen,  the  plaintiff  excepted  to  one  of 
them.  The  judge  on  the  bench  was  highly  offended  at 
this  liberty.  “What  do  you  mean,”  said  he,  “by  ex- 
cepting against  that  gentleman?”  “I  mean,  my  lord, 
to  assert  my  privilege  as  an  Englishman,  without  giving 
a reason  why.” 

9.  The  judge,  who  had  been  highly  bribed,  in  order  to 
conceal  it  by  a show  of  candor,  aSbid  having  a '’‘confidence 
in  the  '’’superiority  of  his  party,  said,  “Well,  sir^,  as 
you  claim  your  privilege  in  one^  instance,  I will  granp 
it.  Whom  would  you  wish  to  have  in  the  room  of  that 
man  excepted?”  After  a short  time,  taken  in  '’‘conside- 
ration, “ My  lord,  says  he,  “ I wish  to  have  an  honest 
man  chosen  in;”  and  looking  round  the  court — “my 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


121 


lord^,  tliere  is  that  miller'^  in  the  court;  wo  will  have 
if  you  please.”  Accordingly,  the  miller  was 
chosen  in. 

10.  As  soon  as  the  clerk  of  the  court  had  given  them 
all  their  oaths,  a dextrous  little  fellow  came  into  the 
apartment,  and  slipped  ten  golden  guineas  into  the 
hands  of  eleven  jurymen,  and  gave  the  miller  but  five. 
ITc  observed  that  they  were  all  brib'ed  as  well  as  him- 
self, and  said  to  his  next  neighbor,  in  a soft  whisper, 
“How  much  have  you^  got?”  “Ten  pieces^,”  said  he. 
But  he  concealed  what  he  had  got  himself.  The  cause 
was  opened  by  the  plaintiff’s  counsel;  and  all  the  scraps 
of  evidence  they  could  pick  up  were  adduced  in  his 
favor. 

11.  The  younger  brother  was  provided  with  a great 
number  of  witnesses  and  pleaders,  all  plentifully  bribed, 
as  well  as  the  judge.  The  witnesses  deposed,  that  they 
were  in  the  self-same  country  when  the  brother  died, 
and  saw  him  buried.  The  counselors  pleaded  upon 
this  '^'accumulated  '^evidence;  and  every  thing  went  with 
a full  tide  in  favor  of  the  younger  brother.  The  judge 
summed  up  the  evidence  with  great  gravity  and  delibe- 
ration; “and  now,  gentlemen  of  the  jury ^,”  said  he, 
“ lay  your  heads  together,  and  bring  in  your  verdict  as 
you  shall  deem  most  just.” 

12.  They  waited  but  for  a few  minutes,  before  they 
determined  in  favor  of  the  younger  brother.  The  judge 
said,  “Gentlemen^,  are  you  agreed?  and  who  shall 
speak^  for  you?”  “We  are  all  agreed,  my  lord^,” 
replied  one,  “ and  our  foreman^  shall  speak  for  us.” 
“Hold'',  my  lord^,”  replied  the  miller;  we  are  all 
agreed.”  “Why^?”  said  the  judge,  in  a very  surly 
manner,  “what’s  the  matter  with  you^f  Whac  rea- 
rms have  yoU^  for  disagreeing  ? ” 

13.  “I  have  several  reasons,  my  lord,”  replied  the 
miller : “ the  first  is,  they  have  given  to  all  these  gentle- 
men of  the  jury  ten^  broad  pieces  of  gold,  and  to  me  but 
five'^;  which,  you  know,  is  not  fair.  Besides,  I have 
manv  objections  to  make  to  the  false  reasonings  of  the 

5th  R.— 1 1 


122 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


pleaders,  and  the  ‘^'contradictory  evidence  of  the  wit- 
nesses.” Upon  this,  the  miller  began  a discourse,  which 
discovered  such  a vast  penetration  of  judgment,  such 
■^'extensive  knowledge  of  law,  and  was  expressed  with 
such  manly  and  energetic  eloquence,  that  it  astonished 
tlie  judge  and  the  whole  court. 

14.  As  he  was  going  on  with  his  powerful  demonstra 

tions,  the  judge,  in  great  surprise,  stopped  him.  Where 
did  you  come  from,  and  who  are  you?  ” “ I came  from 

Westminster  Hall,”  replied  the  miller;  ^^my  name  is 
Matthew  Hale;  I am  Lord  Chief  Justice  of  the  King’s 
Bench.  I have  observed  the  "^iniquity  of  your  proceed- 
ings this  day ; therefore,  come  down  from  a seat  which 
you  are  not  worthy  to  hold.  You  are  one  of  the  cor- 
rupt  parties  in  this  iniquitous  business.  I will  come  up 
this  moment  and  try  the  cause  all  over  again.” 

15.  Accordingly,  Sir  Matthew  went  up,  with  his  mil- 
ler’s dress  and  hat  on,  began  the  trial  from  its  very 
commencement,  and  searched  every  circumstance  of 
truth  jind  falsehood.  He  evinced  the  elder  brother’s 
title  to  the  estate,  from  the  contradictory  evidence  of 
the  witnesses,  and  the  false  reasoning  of* the  pleaders; 
■**unraveled  all  the  sophistry  to  the  very  bottom,  and 
gained  a complete  victory  in  favor  of  truth  and  justice. 

Questions. — What  were  the  circumstances,  under  which  the 
younger  brother  took  possession  of  his  father’s  estate?  How  did  he 
treat  his  elder  brother  upon  his  return  ? What  did  the  elder  brothei 
do?  What  plan  did  Chief  Justice  Hale  pursue?  What  influenced 
him  to  take  all  this  trouble  ? 


EXERCISE  XYI. 

In  the  following  words,  sound  the  last  consonant  distinctly. 

(After  such  exercises  as  this,  it  will  be  necessary  to  guard  against 
a drawling  style  of  reading.) 

Or-6,  ai-d,  fa-^,  Geov-gCy  SL-Uy  ai-w,  ow-w,  li-p,  wa-r,  hi-55,  ha-t 
gi-VBy  (i-dd,  so-ng,  brea-^A,  tru-if/z,  pu-s/i,  bir-c7^. 

Mo-6,  la-d,  ru-/,  ha-g,  cn-ge,  ta-c/i:,  fi-ZZ,  ri-m,  si-?i,  ho^,  fa-r,  pa-C6 
hi-Z,  hsi-vCy  ha-5,  pa-wp',  ba-wT:,  soo-they  pi-Zi^,  wi-.9^,  ri-c^. 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


123 


LESSON  xxxnj<£. 


1 


3 


Con-trol';  V.  subdue,  restrain, 
govern. 

Cult^-ure;  n.  cultivation,  im- 
provement by  effort. 
Def^-er-ence  ; n.  regard,  re- 
spect. 


6.  Su-per-an^-nu-a-ted  j adj,  im- 
"'""^paired  by  old  age  and  in- 
firmity. 

7.  Rep''-ri-mand  ; v,  to  reprove  for 

a fault.  [gained. 

8.  A-chiev^-ed  ; p.  (pro.  a-cheev^d^) 


CONTROL  YOUR  TEMPER. 

Pronounce  correctly  and  articulate  distinctly.  Do  not  say 
nat-ter-rul-ly  nor  nafr’l-ly  for  nat-w-ral-ly ; cul-ter  nor  cult-tshur 
for  cul-twre  (pro.  cult-yur)  ; spe-cial-lij  for  es-pecial-ly ; de-roAig'd 
for  de-ranged ; def-runce  for  def-er-cnce ; gov-uns  for  gov-erns  ; 
winder-hline  for  win-doz^-blinc^ ; u-sliul  for  u-sw-al. 

1.  No  ONE  has  a temper  naturally  so  good,  that  it  does 
not  need  attention  and  cultivation,  and  no  one  has  a 
temper  so  had,  but  that,  by  proper  culture,  it  may 
become  pleasant.  One  of  the  best  disciplined  tempers 
ever  seen,  was  that  of  a gentleman  who  was  naturally 
quick,  irritable,  rash,  and  violent ; but,  by  having  the 
care  of  the  sick,  and  especially  of  ’’'deranged  people,  he 
so  completely  mastered  himself,  that  he  was  never 
known  to  be  thrown  off  his  guard. 

2.  The  difference  in  the  happiness  which  is  received 
or  bestowed  by  the  man  who  governs  his  temper,  and 
that  by  the  man  who  does  not,  is  immense.  There  is  no 
misery  so  constant,  so  distressing,  and  so  '’'intolerable  to 
others,  as  that  of  having  a disposition,  which  is  your 
master,  and  which  is  continually  fretting  itself.  There 
are  corners  enough,  at  every  turn  in  life,  against  which 
we  may  run,  and  at  which  we  may  break  out  in  ’’’impa- 
tience,  if  we  choose. 

3.  Look  at  Eoger  Sherman^,  who  rose,  from  a humble 
occupation,  to  a seat  in  the  fii’st  Congress  of  the  United 
States,  and  whose  judgment  was  received  with  great  def- 
erence by  that  body  of  distinguished  men.  He  made 


124 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


himself  master  of  his  temper,  and  ^cultivated  it  as  a 
great  h.usiness  in  life.  There  are  one  or  two  instances 
which  %how  this  part  of  his  character  in  a light  that  is 
beautiful. 

4.  One  day,  after  having  received  his  highest  honors, 
he  was  sitting  and  reading  in  his  parlor.  A '^roguish 
student,  in  a room  close  by,  held  a looking-glass  in  such 
a position,  as  to  pour  the  reflected  rays  of  the  sun  di- 
rectly in  Mr.  Sherman’s  face.  He  moved  his  chair,  and 
the  thing  was  repeated.  A third  time  the  chair  was 
moved,  but  the  looking-glass  still  '^reflected  the  sun  in 
his  eyes.  He  laid  aside  his  book,  went  to  the  window, 
and  many  witnesses  of  the  Hmpudence  expected  to  hear 
the  ungen tlemanly  student  severely  reprimanded.  He 
raised  the  window  gently,  and  then — shut  the  window- 
blind  ! 

5.  I can  not  forbear  '^adducing  another  instance  of  the 
power  he  had  ^acquired  over  himself.  He  was  naturally 
possessed  of  strong  passions  ; but  over  these  he  at  length 
obtained  an  extraordinary  control.  He  became  ^habitu- 
allj'calm,  "^sedate,  and  self-possessed.  Mr.  Sherman  was 
one  of  those  men  who  are  not  ashamed  to  '^'maintain  the 
forms  of  religion  in  their  families.  One  morning,  ho 
called  them  all  together,  as  usual,  to  lead  them  in  prayer 
to  God^  ; the  “old  family  Bible”  was  brought  out,  and 
laid  on  the  table. 

6.  Mr.  Sherman  took  his  seat,  and  placed  beside  him 
one  of  his  children,  a child  of  his  old  age'‘;  the  rest  of 
the  family  were  seated  around  the  room;  several  of 
these  were  now  grown  up.  Beside  these,  some  of  the 
tutors  of  the  college  were  boarders  in  the  family,  and 
were  present  at  the  time  alluded  to.  His  aged  and  su- 
perannuated mother  occupied  a corner  of  the  room,  op- 
posite the  place  where  the  '‘‘distinguished  judge^  sat. 

7.  At  length,  he  opened  the  Bible,  and  began  to  read. 
The  child  who  was  seated  beside  him,  made  some  little 
^disturbance,  upon  which  Mr.  Sherman  paused,  and  told 
it  to  be  still.  Again  he  proceeded^ ; but  again  he  paused, 
to  reprimand  the  little  offender^,  whose  playful  disposi- 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


125 


tion  would  scarcely  permit  it  to  be  stilb.  And  this  time, 
he  gently  tapped  its  ear.  The  blow,  if  blow  it  might  be 
called,  caught  the  attention  of  his  aged  mother,  who 
now,  with  some  effort,  rose  from  the  seat,  and  tottered 
across  the  room.  At  length,  she  reached  the  chair  of 
Mr.  Sherman,  and,  in  a moment,  most  unexpectedly  tc 
him,  she  gave  him  a blow  on  the  ear  with  all  the  force 
she  could  ^summon.  “ There^,”  said  she,  “you  strike 
your^  child,  and  I will  strike  mine'^y 

8.  For  a moment,  the  blood  was  seen  mounting  to  the 
face  of  Mr.  Sherman ; but  it  was  only"^  for  a moment, 
when  all  was  calm  and  mild  as  usual.  He  paused^  ; he 
raised  his  spectacles^  ; he  cast  his  eye  upon  his  mother^; 
again  it  fell  upon  the  book^  from  which  he  had  been 
reading^.  Not  a word  escaped  him ; but  again  he  calmly 
pursued  the  service,  and  soon  after,  sought,  in  prayer, 
an  "^ability  to  set  an  ‘^example  before  his  household, 
which  should  be  worthy  of  their  '^imitation.  Such  a 
victory  was  worth  more,  than  the  proudest  one  ever 
achieved  on  the  field  of  battle. 

Questions. — Has  any  one  a temper  so  bad  that  it  can  not  be  gov- 
erned and  made  pleasant  ? How  can  this  be  done  ? To  whom  does  a 
bad  temper  give  most  pain  ? Is  it  a duty  to  control  it  ? Repeat  the 
two  anecdotes  related  of  Judge  Sherman. 

Give  the  rules  for  the  inflections  marked  in  this  lesson. 


EXERCISE  XVII. 

When  similar  sounds  come  at  the  end  of  one  word  and  the  begin- 
ning of  the  next  word,  they  must  not  be  blended  into  one  sound. 

Malice  seeks  to  destroy.  The  breejse  sighs  softly.  The  ice  slowly 
melts.  The  hosts  still  stand.  The  lane?  descends.  His  dea?A 
?Arilled  the  nation.  Li^e  y*lies  swiftly.  With  sad  dismay  he  saw 
his  dreaded  destiny.  His  blanA;  countenance  revealed  all.  Grie/* 
fills  his  heart.  The  ji6  6oom  was  carried  away.  The  ha^ 
^oaned  drearily. 


12G 


NEW  FIFTH  READEli. 


LESSON  XXXIIlf; 


1.  Sphere;  n,  the  expanse  in 

which  the  heavenly  bodies 
appear. 

2.  Moan;  n.  grief  expressed  in 

words  or  cries. 

2.  Crys^-tal;  adj.  clear,  transpa- 
« rent. 


3.  Ca-reer^-ingj  V,  moving  ra- 
pidlj . 

3.  SwERVfis;  V,  deviates  from, 

varitfi  from. 

4.  Nest^-ling;  n.  a young  bird 

in  the  nest.  [feathers. 

4.  UN-plumes^;  v.  strips  of  his 


THE  CHILD'S  INQUIRY. 

Articulate  each  letter.  Do  not  chile  for  chM;  cWeer4n* 
fur  ca-reer-in^ ; re-ly-in^  for  re-ly-in^ ; de~fy4n^  for  de-fy-in g ; 
sweet-es  for  sweet~est;  waf  for  waff. 

1.  What  is  that,  mother^? 

The  lark^,  my  child 

The  morn  has  just  looked  out,  and  smiled, 

When  he  starts  from  his  humble  ’’’grassy  nest. 

And  is  up  and  away  with  the  dew  on  his  breast, 
And  a hymn  in  his  heart,  to  yon  pure  bright  sphere 
To  ’’’warble  it  out  in  his  Maker’s  ear. 

Ever,  my  child^,  be  thy  morn’s  first  lays. 

Tuned,  like  the  lark’s,  to  thy  Maker’s  praise. 

2.  What  is  that^^  mother^? 

The  dove^,  my  son. 

And  that  low,  sweet  voice,  like  a widow’s  moan. 

Is  flowing  out  from  her  gentle  breast, 

■’’Constant  and  pure  by  that  lonely  nest, 

As  the  wave  is  poured  from  some  crystal  '^urn, 

For  her  distant  dear  one’s  quick  return. 

Ever,  my  son^,  be  thou  like  the  dove ; 

In  ’’’friendship  as  faithful,  as  constant  in  love. 

3 What  is  mother^? 

The  eagle^,  my  boy. 

Proudly  careering  in  his  course  of  joy; 

Firm,  in  his  own  mountain  ’’’vigor  ’’’relying^  , 


ECLECTIC  SERIES.  127 

Breasting  the  dark  storm^;  the  red  bolt*^  ’‘'defying  ; 
His  wing  on  the  Avind,  and  his  eye  on  the  sun, 

He  swerves  not  a hair.,  but  bears  onward,  right  on^ 
Boy,  may  the  eagle’s  flight  ever  be  thine  ; 

Onward  and  upAvard,  and  true  to  the  line  ” 

4 What  is  that^^  mother^? 

The  SAvan,  my  love. 

He  is  ■‘’floating  doAvn  from  his  native  grove ; 

Ho  loved  one,  noAV,  no  nestling  nigh; 

He  is  floating  doAvn  by  himself,  to  die. 

Death  darkens  his  eye,  and  unplumes  his  wings. 
Yet  his  sweetest  song  is  the  last  he  sings. 

Live  so,  my  love,  that  Avhen  death  shall  come, 
■‘’SAvan-like  and  sweet  it  may  waft  thee  home. 

Questions. — "What  lesson  is  drawn  from  the  lark  ? What  from  the 
dove?  The  eagle?  The  swan?  What  beautiful  figure  in  verse  2d? 

Which  are  the  verbs  in  the  last  paragraph  ? Give  the  present  tense, 
first  person  plural,  indicative  mode,  of  each.  Parse  “swan”  in  the 
same  paragraph. 


LESSON  XXXIV. 


2.  Suc^'-cor;  V.  help,  assist. 

6.  Shek''-el;  n.  a Jewish  coin, 
worth  fifty  to  sixty  cents. 


7.  Com"'- PASSED ; v,  surrounded. 

8.  Pale  ; n.  a low  place  between 
hills. 


DEATH  OF  ABSALOM. 

Remark. — The  last  words  of  every  sentence  should  be  read  in  such 
manner  as  the  sense  requires,  especially  avoiding  a sudden  fall  of 
the  voice. 

Articulate  distinctly.  Do  not  say  Ah-s^lom  for  Ab-sa-lom  ; 
tap^ns  for  cap-to’ns ; 7mn-durds  for  hun-dreds  ; saw^ss  for  saw- 
€S  t ; ihruss  for  thrush. 

1.  David  numbered  the  people  that  were  with  him, 
and  set  captains  of  thousands  and  captains  of  hun- 
dreds over  them.  And  David  sent  forth  a third  part  of 
the  people  under  the  hand  of  Joab,  and  a third  part 


128 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


under  tlie  band  of  Abishai,  the  son  of  Zeruiah,  Joab’s 
brother,  and  a third  part  under  tlie  hand  of  Ittai,  the 
Gittite. 

2.  And  the  king  said  unto  the  people,  I will  surely  go 
forth  with  you  myself  also.  But  the  people  answered, 
tliou  shalt  not  go  forth;  for  if  we  flee  away,  they  will 
not  care  for  us;  neither  if  half  of  us  die,  will  they  care 
for  us;  but  now  thou  art  worth  ten  thousand  of  us; 
therefore  now  it  is  better  that  thou  succor  us  out  of  the 
city.  And  the  king  said  unto  them,  What  seemeth  you 
best,  I will  do. 

3.  And  the  king  stood  by  the  gate -side,  and  all  the 
people  came  out  by  hundreds  and  by  thousands.  And 
the  king  commanded  Joab,  and  Abishai,  and  Ittai,  say- 
ing, Deal  gently  for  my  sake  with  the  young  man,  even 
with  Absalom.  And  all  the  people  heard  when  the  king 
gave  all  the  cajhains  charge  '^concerning  Absalom. 

4.  So  the  people  went  out  into  the  field  against  Israel ; 
and  the  battle  was  in  the  wood  of  'tEphraim ; where  the 
people  of  Israel  were  slain  before  the  servants  of  David, 
and  there  was  there  a great  ^slaughter  that  day  of 
twenty  thousand  men.  For  the  battle  was  there  scat- 
tered over  the  face  of  all  the  country:  and  the  wood 
devoured  more  people  that  day  than  the  sword  devoured. 

5.  And  Absalom  met  the  servants  of  David.  And  Ab- 
salom rode  upon  a mule,  and  the  mule  went  under  the 
thick  boughs  of  a great  oak,  and  his  head  caught  hold 
of  the  oak,  and  he  was  taken  up  between  the  heaven 
and  the  earth ; and  the  mule  that  was  under  him  went 
away. 

6.  And  a certain  man  saw  it,  and  told  Joab,  and  said, 
Behold,  I saw  Absalom  hanged  in  an  oak.  And  Joab 
said  unto  the  man  that  told  him,  And  behold,  thou 
sawest  him,  and  why  didst  thou  not  smite  him  there  to 
the  ground?  and  I would  have  given  thee  ten  shekels  of 
silver  and  a ‘^girdle.  And  the  man  said  unto  Joab, 
Though  I should  receive  a thousand  shekels  of  silver  in 
my  hand,  yet  would  I not  put  forth  my  hand  against 
the  king’s  son:  for,  in  our  hearing,  the  king  charged 
thee,  and  Abishai,  and  Ittai,  saying.  Beware  that  none 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


129 

touch  the  young  man  Absalom.  Otherwise,  1 should 
have  hvrought  falsehood  against  mine  own  life;  for 
there  is  no  matter  hid  from  the  king,  and  thou  thyself 
wouldst  have  set  thyself  against  me. 

7.  Then  said  Joab,  I may  not  tarry  thus  with  thee. 
And  he  took  three  darts  in  his  hand,  and  thrust  them 
through  the  heart  of  Absalom,  while  he  was  yet  alive  in 
the  midst  of  the  oak.  And  ten  young  men  that  bare 
Joab’s  armor,  compassed  about  and  smote  Absalom,  and 
slew  him.  And  Joab  blew  the  trumpet,  and  the  people 
returned  from  pursuing  after  Israel;  for  Joab  held  back 
the  people. 

8.  And  they  took  Absalom,  and  cast  him  into  a great 
pit  in  the  wood,  and  laid  a very  great  heap  of  stones 
upon  him;  and  all  Israel  fled,  every  one  to  his  tent. 
How  Absalom,  in  his  lifetime,  had  taken  and  +r eared  up 
for  himself  a pillar,  which  is  in  the  king’s  dale ; for  he 
said,  I have  no  son  to  keep  my  name  in  ‘^remembrance; 
and  he  called  the  pillar  after  his  own  name;  and  it  is 
called  unto  this  day,  Absalom’s  Place. 

9.  Then  said  Ahimaaz  the  son  of  Zadok,  Let  me  now 
run,  and  bear  the  king  ‘^'tidings,  how  that  the  Lord  hath 
avenged  him  of  his  "^enemies.  And  Joab  said  unto  him. 
Thou  shalt  not  bear  tidings  this  day,  but  thou  shalt  bear 
tidings  another  day:  but  this  day  thou  shalt  bear  no 
tidings,  because  the  king’s  son  is  dead.  Then  said  Joab 
to  Cushi,  Go,  tell  the  king  what  thou  hast  seen.  And 
Cushi  bowed  himself  unto  Joab,  and  ran. 

10.  Then  said  Ahimaaz  the  son  of  Zadok  yet  again  to 
Joab,  But  howsoever,  let  me,  I pray  thee,  also  run  after 
Cushi.  And  Joab  said.  Wherefore  wilt  thou  run,  my 
son,  seeing  that  thou  hast  no  "^tidings  ready?  But  how- 
soever, said  he,  let  me  run.  And  he  said  unto  him,  run. 
Then  Ahimaaz  ran  by  the  way  of  the  plain,  and  overrun 
Cushi. 

11.  And  David  sat  between  the  two  gates;  and  the 
watchman  went  up  to  the  roof  over  the  gate  unto  the 
wall,  and  lifted  up  his  eyes,  and  looked,  and  behold,  a 
man  running  alone.  And  the  ‘‘‘watchman  cried,  and 


130 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


told  the  king.  And  the  king  said,  If  he  be  aloi.e,  there 
is  tidings  in  his  mouth.  And  he  came  apace,  and  drew 
near. 

12.  And  the  watchman  saw  another  man  running,  and 
the  watchman  called  unto  the  porter,  and  said.  Behold, 
another  man  running  alone.  And  the  king  said.  He 
also  bringeth  tidings.  And  the  watchman  said,  +Me- 
thinketh  the  running  of  the  foremost  is  like  the  running 
of  Ahimaaz  the  son  of  Zadok.  And  the  king  said.  He  is 
a good  man,  and  cometh  with  good  tidings. 

13.  And  Ahimaaz  called,  and  said  unto  the  king.  All 
is  well.  And  he  fell  down  to  the  earth  upon  his  face 
before  the  king,  and  said.  Blessed  be  the  Lord  thy  God, 
which  hath  delivered  up  the  men  that  lifted  up  their 
hand  against  my  lord  the  king.  And  the  king  said,  Is 
the  young  man  Absalom  safe?  And  Ahimaaz  answered. 
When  Joab  sent  the  king’s  servant,  and  me  thy  servant, 
I saw  a great  ^tumult,  but  I knew  not  what  it  was. 
And  the  king  said  unto  him,  Turn  aside  and  stand  here. 
And  he  turned  aside,  and  stood  still. 

14.  And  behold,  Cushi  came ; and  Cushi  said,  Tidings 
my  lord  the  king;  for  the  Lord  hath  '^'avenged  thee  this 
day  of  all  them  that  rose  up  against  thee.  And  the  king 
said  unto  Cushi,  Is  the  young  man  Absalom  safe  ? And 
Cushi  answered.  The  enemies  of  my  lord  the  king,  and 
all  that  rise  against  thee  to  do  thee  hurt,  be  as  that 
young  man  is. 

15.  And  the  king  was  much  moved^,  and  went  up  to 
the  chamber  over  the  gate,  and  wept ; and  as  he  went, 
thus  he  said.  Oh  my  son  Absalom^!  my  son^,  my  son  Ab- 
salom^! would  to  God  I had  died  for  thee^.  Oh  Absalom^, 
my  son,  my  son''! 

Questions. — Why  did  not  David  himself  go  forth  to  the  battle? 
What  charge  did  David  give  to  the  three  officers  respecting  Absalom  ? 
What  was  the  result  of  the  battle  ? What  was  the  fate  of  Absalom  ? 
What  was  the  effect  of  the  news  of  Absalom’s  death  upon  king  David? 

Explain  the  inflections  in  the  last  two  lines.  (Persons  addressed 
and  emphatic  repetition). 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


131 


LESSON  XXXV 


6.  Court^-jj-sy;  7i.  (pro.  kurt^-e-sy) 
civility,  politeness. 

4.  Trem^-u-lous  ; ac?;.  trembling. 

\ Es-trang^I^d;  ac?/.  alienated  in 
— ' affection. 

4 CoN-TROLLED^j  V.  restrained. 

6 Stm^-me-try;  n.  a due  propor- 
tion of  the  several  parts  of  a 
body  to  each  other. 


5.  Swayed;  v.  leaned,  moved 
back  and  forth. 

6.  Trail^-ing;  n.  dragging  on 
4iie  ground. 

6.  Re-vers^ed;  v,  turned  side 
for  side,  or  end  for  end. 

9.  Sack^-cloth;  n.  a coarse  cloth. 
12.  Mant^-ling;  ac?;.  covering  with 
crimson. 


ABSALOM. 

Remark. — In  reading,  be  careful  not  to  join  the  final  consonant  of 
one  word  to  the  vowel  of  the  next  word,  in  the  following  way,  viz : 
They  gathered  roun  dim  on  the  fresh  green  bank. 

And  spoke  their  kindly  words ; an  das  the  sun  * 

'Rose  upineaven^  &c. 

Be  careful  to  avoid  this  fault,  by  articulating  distinctly  such 
words  in  the  above,  as  round  him/^  “ and  as,  up  in  heaven, 
and  the  following  and  similar  words  in  the  lesson,  viz  : Do  not  say 
hare  dis  for  bared  his ; how  dis  for  bow^d  his ; wor  dsof  for  words 
of ; an  dis  voi  swen  tup  for  and  his  voice  went  up. 

1 . King  David’s  limbs  were  weary.  He  had  fled 
From  far  Jerusalem ; and  now  he  stood, 

With  his  faint  people,  for  a little  rest 

Upon  the  shores  of  Jordan.  The  light  wind 
Of  morn  was  stirring,  and  he  hared  his  brow 
To  its  refreshing  breath  ; for  he  had  worn 
The  '^mourner’s  covering,  and  he  had  not  felt 
That  he  could  see  his  people  until  now. 

2.  They  gathered  round  him  on  the  fresh  green  bank 
And  spoke  their  kindly  words  ; and,  as  the  sun 
Eose  up  in  heaven,  he  knelt  among  them  there, 

And  bowed  his  head  upon  his  hands  to  pray. 

3 Oh!  when  the  heart  is  full,  when  bitter  thoughts 
Come  crowding  thickly  up  for  ‘^utterance, 

And  the  poor  common  words  of  courtesy 


132  NEW  FIFTH  READER. 

Are  such  a very  ■*'mockery^,  how  much 
The  bursting  heart  may  pour  itself  in  prayer  I 

4.  He  prayed  for  Israel^;  and  his  voice  went  up^ 
Strongly  and  fervently.  He  prayed  for  those 
Whose  love  had  been  his  shield^;  and  his  deep  tones 
Grew  tremulous^.  But,  oh  ! for  Absalom^ 

For  his  estranged^  "^misguided  Absalom^ 

The  proud,  bright  being,  who  had  burst  away, 

In  all  his  princely  beauty,  to  defy 

The  heart  that  cherished  him,  for  him  he  poured. 

In  agony  that  would  not  be  controlled. 

Strong  supplication,  and  forgave  him  there. 

Before  his  God,  for  his  deep  sinfulness. 

5 The  pall  was  settled.  ^ He  who  slept  beneath 
Was  straightened  for  the  grave  ; and,  as  the  folds 
Sunk  to  the  still  proportions,  they  betrayed 
The  matchless  symmetry  of  Absalom. 

His  hair  was  yet  unshorn,  and  silken  curls 
Were  floating  round  the  '^tassels  as  they  swayed 
To  the  admitted  air,  as  glossy  now. 

As  when,  in  hours  of  gentle  dalliance,  bathing 
The  snowy  fingers  of  Judea’s  girls. 

6.  His  helm  was  at  his  feet : his  banner^,  soiled 
With  trailing  through  Jerusalem^,  was  laid, 
Eeversed^,  beside  him^,  and  the  jeweled  hilt^. 
Whose  '^'diamonds  lit  the  passage  of  his  blade, 
Bested,  like  mockery^,  on  his  covered  brow. 

7.  The  soldiers  of  the  king  trod  to  and  fro. 

Clad  in  the  garb  of  battle ; and  their  chief. 

The  mighty  Joab,  stood  beside  the  bier. 

And  gazed  upon  the  dark  pall  ^steadfastly. 

As  if  he  feared  the  slumber er  might  stir. 

8.  A slow  step  startled  him.  He  grasped  his  blade 
As  if  a trumpet  rang ; but  the  bent  form 

Of  David  entered,  and  he  gave  command. 

In  a low  tone  to  his  few  followers. 

Who  left  him  with  his  dead. 


KCLECTIC  SERIES.  133 

9.  The  king  stood  still 

Till  the  last  '•'echo  died;  then,  throwing  off 
The  sackcloth  from  his  brow,  and  laying  back 
The  +i)all  from  the  still  features  of  his  child. 

He  bowed  his  head  upon  him,  and  broke  forth 
In  the  resistless  elo(][uence  of  woe  i 

lb  “Alas ! my  noble  boy,  that  thou  shouldst  die  ! 

Thou,  who  wert  made  so  beautifully  fair  ! 

That  death  should  settle  in  thy  gloi’ious  eye. 

And  leave  his  stillness  in  this  '•'clustering  hair  I 
How  could  he  mark  thee  for  the  silent  tomb. 

My  proud  boy,  Absalom  ! 

11.  “Cold  is  thy  brow,  my  son,  and  I am  chill. 

As  to  my  bosom  I have  tried  to  press  thee. 

How  was  I wont  to  feel  my  pulses  thrill, 

A ^ harpstring,  ^yearning  to  caress  thee. 
And  hear  thy  sweet  father"  from  these  dumb 
And  cold  lips,  Absalom ! 

12.  “The  grave  hath  won  thee.  I shall  hear  the  gush 

Of  music,  and  the  voices  of  the  young: 

And  life  will  pass  me  in  its  mantling  btush. 

And  the  dark  -^tresses  to  the  soft  winds  flung. 

But  thou  no  more,  with  thy  sweet  voice,  shalt°como 
To  meet  me,  Absalom ! 

13.  “And,  oh!  when  I am  stricken,  and  my  heart. 

Like  a bruised  reed,  is  waiting  to  be  broken. 

How  will  its  love  for  thee,  as  I depart. 

Yearn  for  thine  ear  to  drink  its  last  deep  token  I 
t weio  so  sweet,  amid  death’s  gathering  gloom, 

To  see  thee,  Absalom! 

H.  “And  now,  farewell!  ’Tis  hard  to  give  thee  up. 

With  death,  so  like  a gentle  '•'slumber,  on  thee 
And  thy  dark  sin!  Oh ! I could  drink  the  cup. 

If  from  this  woo  its  '•'bitterness  had  won  thee 
May  God  have  called  thee,  like  a -^wanderer,  home. 

My  erring  Absalom ! ’’ 


134  NEW  FIFTH  READER. 

15.  He  covered  up  his  face,  and  bowed  himself 
A moment  on  his  child : then,  giving  him 
A look  of  melting  tenderness,  he  clasped 
His  hand  ^convulsively,  as  if  in  prayer. 
And,  as  a strength  were  given  him  of  God, 
He  rose  up  ^calmly,  and  '^composed  the  pall 
Firmly  and  decently,  and  left  him  there. 

As  if  his  rest  had  been  a breathing  sleep. 


EXERCISE  XVIII. 

Thou  waft^st  the  ships.  Thou  acknowledgest  thy  crimes.  Thou 
lisfnest  to  my  tale.  It  exists  somewhere.  Thou  knewest  that  I was 
a hard  man.  Thou  wrongest  wrongfully. 


LESSON  XXXVI, 


1.  Can-'-o-py;  n.  a covering  over 

the  head. 

2.  De^-vi-ous;  adj.  out  of  the  com- 

mon way  or  track. 

2.  Ob-liv^-ion;  n.  forgetfulness. 

2.  Ru^-mi-nate;  v.  to  meditate,  to 
think.  [fleet. 

2.  Pon^-deb;  V.  to  consider,  to  re- 

4.  Me-an^-der-ings;  n.  windings. 

5.  Tur-moil'';  n.  a great  stir,  trou- 

ble. 


5.  In-scru^-ta-ble;  adj.  that  can 
not  be  discovered. 

8.  Peer^-ing;  V.  peeping,  looking 
about  narrowly. 

17.  Im-pale^;  V.  to  fix  on  a sharp 
instrument. 

24.  A^-e-rie;  n.  (pro.  or 

e^-ry)  the  nest  of  birds  of 
prey. 

24.  CoM-PLA^'-CEN-CY ; n.  satisfac- 
tion. 


A MORNING  RAMBLE. 

Utter  distinctly  all  the  consonants  in  the  following  words  found 
in  this  lesson:  frequently,  rambling,  recline,  listlessly,  rippling, 
branches,  abstracted,  middle,  inscrutable,  croaking,  cruel,  relapsM, 
traps,  commingled,  grudges,  scratch,  indispensable,  privileges, 
giggle,  crack,  rattlesnake,  inaccessible,  composedly. 

1.  I FREQUENTLY  spcud  R momiug  in  the  country, 
'trambling  alone  in  the  melancholy  woods;  sometimes 
resting  myself  against  the  bark  of  a time-worn  tree; 
sometimes  lingering  on  the  woody  hights  looking  far 


13b 


BCLECTIC  SERIES. 


over  the  surrounding  world.  At  other  times,  I recline 
listlessly  by  the  side  of  some  clear  brook,  over  whose 

ripp  iiij,  way  the  branches  meet,  and  form  nature’s 
choicest  canopy. 


2.  Here  I indulge  my  memory  and  imagination  in  a 
thousand  devious  wanderings.  I recall  the  distant 
shadows  of  departed  time  that  have,  by  degrees,  faded 
almost  into  oblivion,  and  send  my  mind  on  errands  to 
tne  tuture.  At  times,  I become  so  completely  abstracted 
rom  the  scenes  around,  as  to  forget  where  I am,  and  to 
lose  almost  the  consciousness  of  being.  I ruminate  1 
ponder,  and  I dream.  ’ 


3.  On  one  of  these  occasions,  about  the  middle  of 
the  month  of  August,  when  the  +dog-star  rages,  and  all 
nature  sinks  into  a sort  of  luxurious  repose,  I had 
become  somewhat  tired  with  a ramble  longer  than  usual, 
and  laid  myself  listlessly  along  the  margin  of  a little 

that  stole  its  winding  way  among 
the  deep  obscurities  of  the  wood,  +diffusing  coolness,  and 
inviting  to  repose. 

4.  Through  the  arched  canopy  of  Holiage  that  over- 
ung  the  little  stream,  I could  see  it  coursing  its  wav  on 

each  hand  among  the  rocks,  glittering  as  if  by  moon- 
light, and  disappearing  after  a thousand  meanderings. 
It  m impossible— at  least  with  me  it  is  impossible— to 
resist  the  influence  of  such  a scene.  Eeflecting  beings 
1 'e  ourselves,  sink  into  a sort  of  melancholy  +reverio 

under  the  influence  of  the  hallowed  quiet  that  reigns  all 
around.  ^ 


5.  As  I thus  lay,  in  ^languid  listlessness  along  the 
stream,  as  quiet  as  the  leaves  that  breathed  not  a whis- 
per above  nie,  I gradually  sunk  into  almost  +uncon- 
sciousness  of  all  the  world  and  all  it  holds.  The  little 
birds  sported  about,  careless  of  my  presence,  and  the 
insects  pursued  that  incessant  turmoil,  which  seems 
never  to  cease,  lintil  winter  lays  his  icy  fetters  on  all 

nature,  and  drives  them  into  their  inscrutable  hiding- 
places.  ^ 

6.  There  is  a +lapse  in  the  recollection  of  the  current 


136 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


of  my  thoughts  at  that  moment,  a short  period  of  forget- 
fulness, from  which  I was  roused  by  a hoarse,  croaking 
voice,  exclaiming,  “Cruel,  savage  monster,  what  does  he 
here?”  I looked  all  around,  and  could  see  only  a hawk 
seated  on  the  limb  of  a dry  tree,  eyeing  me,  as  I fan* 
cied,  with  a peculiar  expression  of  hostility. 

7.  In  a few  minutes,  I again  relapsed  into  a profound 
reverie,  from  which  I was  awakened  once  more  by  a 
small  squeaking  whisper,  “I  dare  say  the  blood-thirsty 
villain  has  been  setting  traps  for  us.”  I looked  again, 
and  at  first  sight,  could  see  nothing  from  which  I sup- 
posed the  voice  might  proceed,  but,  at  the  same  time, 
imagined  that  I distinguished  a sort  of  confused  whisper. 
In  which  many  little  voices  seemed  ^commingled. 

8.  My  curiosity  was  awakened,  and  peering  about  . 
quietly,  I found  it  proceeded  from  a collection  of 
animals,  birds,  and  insects,  gathered  together  for  some 
unaccountable  purpose.  They  seemed  very  much  ex- 
cited, and  withal,  in  a great  passion  about  something,  all 
talking  at  once.  Listening  "^attentively,  1 could  distin- 
guish one  from  the  other. 

9.  “Let  us  tpounce  upon  the  tyrant,  and  kill  him  in 
his  sleep,”  cried  a bald  eagle:  “for  he  grudges  me  a 
miserable  little  lamb  now  and  then,  though  I do  not 
require  one  above  once  a week.  See ! where  he  wounded 
me  in  the  wing,  so  that  I can  hardly  get  an  honest 
living,  by  prey.” 

10.  “Let  me  scratch  his  eyes  out,”  screamed  a hawk, 
“for  he  will  not  allow  me  peaceably  to  carry  off  a 
chicken  from  his  barnyard,  though  I am  dying  of  hun- 
ger, and  come  in  open  day  to  claim  my  natural,  indis- 
pensable right.” 

11.  “Ay,  ay,”  barked  the  fox,  “he  interferes  in  tiio 
same  base  manner  with  my  privileges,  though  I visit  his 
hen  roost  in  the  night,  that  I may  not  disturb  him.” 

12.  “Agreed,”  hissed  a rattlesnake,  “for  he  won’t 
let  me  bite  him,  though  he  knows  it  is  my  nature,  and 
kills  me  according  to  Scripture.”  And  thereupon,  he 
rattled  his  tail,  curled  himself  in  ^spiral  volumes,  and 


ECLECTIC  SERIES.  137 

darted  his  tongue  at  mo  in  the  most  fearful  and  tlireat- 
ening  manner. 

-^gi'ced,  said  a great  fat  spider,  which  sat  in  his 
net,  surrounded  by  the  dead  bodies  of  half  a dozen 
insects,  “agreed,  for  the  bloody-minded  +savage  takes 
delight  in  destroying  the  fruits  of  my  honest  labors,  on 
all  occasions.” 

14.  “By  all  means,”  buzzed  a great  blue-bottle  fly 

“for  he  will  not  let  me  tickle  his  nose,  of  a hot  summer 
day,  though  he  must  see  with  half  an  eye,  that  it  gives 
me  infinite  satisfaction.”  ° 

15.  “Kill  him,”  cried  a little  ant,  that  ran'  foaming 

and  fretting  about  at  a furious  rate,  “kill  him  without 
mercy,  for  he  don’t  mind  treading  me  into  a million  of 
atoms,  a bit  more  than  you  do  killing  a fly,”  addressing 
the  spider.  “The  less  you  say  about  that,  the  better  ” 
whispered  the  spider.  ’ 

16.  “Odds  fish!”  exclaimed  a beautiful  trout,  that  I 
should  like  very  much  to  have  caught,  popping  his  head 
out  of  the  brook,  “Odds  fish!  kill  the  monster  by  all 
means;  hook  him,  I say,  for  he  +entices  me  with  worms 
and  devours  me  to  gratify  his  +insatiable  appetite.” 

17.  “To  be  sure,”  said  a worm,  “kill  him  as  he  sleeps 
and  I’ll  eat  him  afterward;  for  though  I am  acknowl- 
edged on  all  hands  to  be  his  brother,  he  impales  me  alive 
on  a hook,  only  for^his  '•'amusement.” 

18.  “I  consent,”  cooed  the  dove,  “for  he  has  deprived 
me  of  my  mate,  and  made  me  a '•'disconsolate  widow.” 
Upon  which,  she  began  to  mourn  so  piteously,  that  the 
whole  assembly  -^sympathized-in  her  forlorn  condition. 

19.  “He  has  committed  a million  of  murders,”  cried 
the  spider.  “He  drowns  all  my  kittens,”  mewed  the 
eat.  “He  tramples  upon  me  without  mercy,”  whispered 
the  toad,  “only  because  I’m  no  beauty.”  “He  is  a 
treacherous,  cunning  villain,”  barked  the  fox.  “ He  has 
no  more  mercy  than  a wolf,”  screamed  the  hawk.  “Ho 
is  a bloody  tyrant,”  croaked  the  eagle.  “He  is  the  com- 
mon enemy  of  all  nature,  and  deserves  a hundred  and 
fifty  thousand  deaths,”  exclaimed  they  all  in  one  voice. 

5th  R. — 12 


138 


new  fifth  header. 


20.  I began  to  be  heartily  ashamed  of  myself,  and  was 
casting  about  how  I might  slip  away  from  hearing  these 
pleasant +reproaches;  but  curiosity  and  listlessness  to- 
gether kept  me  quiet,  while  they  continued  to  +discus8 
the  best  mode  of  destroying  the  tyrant.  There  was,  as 
is  usual  in  such  cases,  great  +diversity  of  opinion. 

21.  “I  ’ll  bury  my  talons  in  his  brain,”  said  the  eagle. 

“ I ’ll  tear  his  eyes  out,”  screamed  the  hawk.  “ I ’ll  whip 
him  to  death  with  my  tail,”  barked  the  fox.  “I  ’ll  sting 
him  home,”  hissed  the  rattlesnake.  “I’ll  poison  him,” 
said  the  spider.  “ I’ll  fly-blow  him,”  buzzed  the  fly. 
“ I’ll  drown  him,  if  he’ll  only  come  into  my  brook,  so  I 
will,”  quoth  the  trout. 

22.  “ I will  drag  him  into  my  hole,  and  do  his  business 
there,  I warrant,”  said  the  ant ; and  thereupon  there 
was  a giggle  among  the  whole  set.  “And  111  111 
said  the  worm.  “ What  will  you  do,  you  poor  Satan  ?” 
exclaimed  the  rest  in  a titter.  “ What  will  I do  ? Why 
I’ll  eat  him  after  he’s  dead,”  replied  sir  worm  ; and  then 
he  strutted  about,  until  he  +unwarily  came  so  near  that 
he  slipped  into  the  brook,  and  was  snapped  up  in  a 
moment  by  the  trout. 

23.  The  example  was  ^contagious.  “ Oh,  ho!  you  are 
for  that  sport,”  mewed  the  cat,  and  clawed  the  trout  be- 
fore he  could  get  his  head  under  water.  “ Tit  for  tat,” 
barked  Eeynard,  and  snatching  pussy  in  his  teeth,  was 
off  like  a shot.  “ Since ’t  is  the  fashion,”  said  the  spider, 
<=  I ’ll  have  a crack  at  that  same  blue-bottle,”  and  there- 
upon he  nabbed  the  poor  fly  in  a twinkling.  “ By  your 
leave, ’’said  the  toad,  and  snapped  up  the  spider  in  less 
than  no  time.  “ You  ugly  thief  of  the  world,”  hissed 
the  rattlesnake  in  great  wrath,  and  +indignantly  laying 
hold  of  the  toad,  managed  to  swallow  him  about  half 
way,  where  he  lay  in  all  his  glory. 

24.  “ What  a nice  morsel  for  my  poor  fatherless  ones,” 
cooed  the  dove,  and  pecking  at  the  ant,  was  just  flying 
away  with  it  in  quite  a +sentimental  style,  when  the 
hawk,  seeing  this,  screamed  out,  “ what  a pretty  plump 
dove  for  a dinner  I Providence  has  ‘•'ordained  that  I 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


139 


Should  eat  her,”  He  was  carrying  her  off,  when  the 
eagle  darted  upon  him,  and  soaring  to  his  aerie  on  the 
summit  of  an  inaccessible  rock,  composedly  made  a meal 
of  both  hawk  and  dove.  Then  picking  his  teeth  with 
his  claws,  he  exclaimed  with  great  complacency,  “What 
a glorious  thing  it  is  to  be  king  of  birds  !” 

25.*  “Humph,”  exclaimed  I,  rubbing  my  eyes,  for  it 
seemed  I had  been  half  sleep,  “humph,  a man  is  not  so 
much  worse  than  his  neighbors,  after  all,”  and  shaking 
off  the  spell  that  was  over  me,  bent  my  steps  homeward, 
■‘‘wondering  why  it  was,  that  it  seemed  as  if  all  living 
things  were  created  for  the  sole  purpose  of  ‘‘‘preying  on 
each  other. 

Questions. — By  what  authority  does  man  hold  dominion  over  ani- 
mals ? Does  this  include  the  right  to  torture  them,  or  to  kill  them 
unnecessarily  ? Under  what  circumstances  is  it  right  to  kill  them  ? 
On  what  account  are  the  animals,  in  thi,®  fable,  supposed  to  be  in- 
censed at  man  ? 


LESSON  xxxvi;. 


1.  Gar^'-nered;  adj.  laid  up, 
treasured. 

3.  Studs  ; n.  knobs,  buds. 

3.  Cleav^-ing  ; adj.  dividing. 


4.  Rife;  ac?/.  fuM,  abounding. 

4.  Dim^ples;  * n.  small  depres- 
sions. 

4.  Am^-ber  ; adj.  yellow. 


APRIL  DAY. 

Remark. — When  reading  poetry  that  rhymes,  there  should  be  a 
very  slight  pause  after  the  words  that  are  similar  in  sound,  though 
the  sense  may  not  require  it,  as  in  the  following  example,  where  a 
slight  pause  may  be  made  after  the  word  rest^  which  would  not  b#* 
made,  if  it  were  prose  instead  of  poetry. 

Sweet  it  is,  at  eve  to  rest 
On  the  flowery  meadow^s  breast. 

Pronounce  correctly.  Do  not  say  na4er  for  na-twre ; crea-tshurt 
for  creat-wre ; ho  for  bough,  (pro.  bou) ; con-tin-ij-ous  for  con-tin- 
M-ous ; frag~i'ance  for  fra-grance. 

1.  All  day,  the  low-hung  clouds  have  dropped 
Their  garnered  fullness  down ; 


140 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


All  day,  that  soft,  gray  mist  hath  wrapt 
Hill,  valley,  grove,  and  town. 

There  has  not  been  a sound  to-day. 

To  break  the  calm  of  nature  ; 

NTor  motion,  I might  almost  say. 

Of  life  or  living  creature  ; 

Of  waving  +bough,  or  *^warbling  bird. 

Or  cattle  faintly  ^lowing ; 

I could  have  half  believed  I heard 
The  leaves  and  blossoms  growing. 

2 I stood  to  hear — I love  it  well — 

The  rain’s  ’^continuous  sound; 

Small  drops,  but  thick  and  fast  they  fell, 
Down  straight  into  the  ground. 

For  leafy  thickness  is  not  yet 
Earth’s  naked  breast  to  ’^’screen. 

Though  every  dripping  branch  is  set 
With  shoots  of  tender  green. 

3.  Sure,  since  I looked,  at  early  morn, 

Those  ‘^honey-suckle  buds 
Have  swelled  to  double  growth ; that  thorn 
Hath  put  forth  larger  studs. 

That  lilac’s  cleaving  '^'cones  have  burst. 

The  milk-white  flowers  ’^revealing ; 

Even  now  upon  my  senses  first, 

Methinks  their  sweets  are  stealing. 

4 , The  very  earth,  the  steamy  air. 

Are  all  with  '^fragrance  rife ! 

And  grace  and  beauty  every  where 
Are  bursting  into  life. 

Down,  down  they  come,  those  ’‘'fruitful  stores, 
Those  earth -rejoicing  drops  ! 

A ‘‘'momentary  '‘'deluge  pours. 

Then  thins,  decreases,  stops. 

And  ere  the  dimples  on  the  stream 
Have  circled  out  of  sight. 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


141 


Lo  I from  the  west,  tx  parting  '^gleain 
Ereaks  forth  of  amber  light. 

Questions. — What  season  is  described  in  this  lesson  ? What  is  said 
concerning  the  rain  ? What,  concerning  the  appearance  of  the  earth’s 
surface?  What  is  said  of  the  trees  and  shrubs?  What,  of  the  light? 

At  what  pauses  in  this  lesson  is  the  rising  inflection  proper? 
V^'here,  the  falling  inflection  ? 

In  the  fourth  stanza,  which  are  the  adjectives  ? What  does  “rife” 
qualify?  Parse  “ stores  ” and  “ drops.”  Which  are  the  adverbs  in 
the  same  stanza  ? Which  are  the  verbs  ? Which  of  them  are  in  the 
indicative  mood?  Which  are  in  the  present  tense?  Which,  in  a past 
tense?  What  interjection  is  there  in  this  stanza?  Why  is  the  inter- 
jection so  called  ? See  Pinneo’s  Analytical  Grammar,  page  20,  Art.  65. 


LESSON  XXXVIll. 


1.  Tem^-pered;  adj.  softened. 

3.  E-the^-re-al  ; adj.  heavenly, 
• formed  of  ether. 

3.  Se-ren^-i-ty  ; n.  calmness,  qui- 
etness. 

3.  Buot^-an-cy;  n.  (pro.  hwoy-an- 
cy)  lightness. 

3.  En-chant^-ment  n.  the  use  of 
spells  or  charms. 

3.  CoL-ON-NADES^ ; 71.  TOWS  of  Col- 
umns. 

3.  Ra^-di-ance  ; n.  brightness. 


4.  Pa-vil^-ion;  n.  a tent,  here  a 
kind  of  tower  on  the  top  of 
the  castle. 

4.  Par^-a-pe*t  ; n.  a wall  or  eleva- 

tion raised  to  keep  off  shot. 

5.  Cast^- A-NET ; n.  an  instrument 

of  music  made  of  hollowed 
ivory  shells. 

5.  Cav-a-lier''  ; n.  a gay  military 

man,  a knight. 

6.  Rev^-er-ie  ; n.  a loose,  irregu- 

lar train  of  thought. 


THE  ALHAMBRA  BY  MOONLIGHT. 

The  palace  or  castle  called  the  Alhambra,  consists  of  the  remains 
of  a very  extensive  and  ancient  pile  of  buildings  in  Spain,  erected 
by  the  Moors  when  they  were  rulers  of  the  country. 

Articulate  distinctly. . Do  not  say  pro-duce  for  pro-ducec?;  wich 
for  wAich ; weri  for  w7ien  ; per-fec-ly  for  per-fecHy  ; wite-ness  for 
w/.ite-ness  ; sounds  for  Bounces ; paVces  for  pal-a-ces. 

1.  I HAVE  given  a picture  of  my  '’’apartment  on 
my  first  taking  possession  of  it : a few  evenings  have 
produced  a thorough  change  in  the  scene  and  in  my 
feelings.  The  moon,  which  then  was  invisible,  has 
gradually  gained  upon  the  nights,  and  now  rolls  in  full 


142 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


‘♦‘splendor  above  the  towers,  pouring  a flood  of  tempered 
light  into  every  court  and  hall.  The  garden  beneath 
my  window,  is  gently  lighted  up;  the  orange  and  citron 
trees  are  tipped  with  silver;  the  fountain  sparkles  in  the 
moonbeams;  and  even  the  blush  of  the  rose  is  faintly 
visible. 

2.  I have  sat  for  hours  at  my  window,  ‘♦‘inhaling  the 
sweetness  of  the  garden,  and  musing  on  the  '♦‘checkered 
features  of  those,  whose  history  is  dimly  shadowed  out 
in  the  elegant  ‘♦‘memorials  around.  Sometimes,  I have 
issued  forth  at  midnight,  when  every  thing  was  quiet, 
and  have  wandered  over  the  whole  building.  Who  can 
do  justice  to  a moonlight  night  in  such  a climate,  and  in 
such  a place? 

3.  The  ‘♦‘temperature  of  an  Andalusian  midnight  in 
summer,  is  perfectly  ethereal.  We  seem  lifted  up  into  a 
purer  atmosphere;  there  is  a serenity  of  soul,  a .buoy- 
ancy of  spirits,  an  elasticity  of  frame,  that  render  mere 
existence  enjoyment.  The  effect  of  moonlight,  too,  on 
the  Alhambra,  has  something  like  enchantment.  Every 
rent  and  chasm  of  time,  every  ‘♦‘moldering  tint  and 
weather  stain,  disappears ; the  marble  resumes  its  ori- 
ginal whiteness;  the  long  colonnades  brighten  in  the 
moonbeams;  the  halls  are  illuminated  with  a softened 
radiance,  until  the  whole  ^edifice  reminds  one  of  the 
■♦‘enchanted  palace  of  an  Arabian  tale. 

4.  At  such  a time,  I have  ascended  to  the  little  pavil- 
ion, called  the  queen’s  toilet,  to  enjoy  its  varied  and 
extensive  prospect.  To  the  right,  the  snowy  summits 
of  the  Sierra  ]!!^evada  would  gleam,  like  silver  clouds, 
against  the  darker  firmament,  and  all  the  outlines  of  the 
mountain  would  be  softened,  yet  delicately  defined.  My 
delight,  however,  would  be  to  lean  over  the  parapet  of 
Tecador,  and  gaze  down  upon  Grenada,  spread  out  like 
a raap  below  me;  all  buried  in  deep  repose,  and  its  white 
palaces  and  convents  sleeping,  as  it  were,  in  the  moon- 
shine. 

5.  Sometimes,  I would  hear  the  faint  sounds  of  casta- 
nets from  some  party  of  dancers  lingering  in  the  Ala 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


143 


nieda;  at  other  times,  I have  heard  the  •'dubioas  notes 
of  a guitar,  and  the  notes  of  a single  voice  rising  from 
some  ^solitary  street,  and  have  pictured  to  myself  some 
youthful  cavalier,  +serenading  his  lady’s  window;  a gal- 
lant ^custom  of  former  days,  but  now  sadly  on  the  de- 
(dine,  except  in  the  '^remote  towns  and  villages  of  Spain. 

6.  Such  are  the  scenes  that  have  detained  me  for  many 
an  hour  loitering  about  the  courts  and  balconies  of  the 
castle,  enjoying  that  mixture  of  reverie  and  ^sensation 
which  steal  away  existence  in  a southern  climate,  and  it 
has  been  almost  morning  before  I have  retired  to  my 
bed,  and  been  ^lulled  to  sleep  by  the  falling  waters  of 
the  fountain  of  Lindaraxa. 

Questions. — ^IVliat  and  where  is  the  Alhambra?  Describe  the 
effect  of  moonlight  upon  its  appearance.  Where  are  the  mountains 
which  are  called  Sierra  Nevada?  Where  is  Andalusia?  What  is  the 
national  instrument  of  the  Spaniards  ? 


LESSON  XXXIX. 


1.  Wail'-ing;  adj.  lamenting, 
mourning. 

1.  Sear;  adj,  dry,  withered. 


3.  Glade;  n.  an  open  place  in  the 
forest. 

3.  Glen  ; n.  a valley,  a dale. 


THE  DEATH  OF  THE  FLOWERS. 


Pronounce  correctly.  Do  not  say  mehun-chid-y  for  mel-an-choly ; 
mead^ers  for  mead-ot(?s;  hol-luz  for  hol-loz4;5;  heau-che-ous  for 
beau-i^e-ous;  up-lund  for  up-land;  youth-f^l  for  youth-fwl;  cole 
for  cold;  mois  for  mois^;  frien  for  friend;  Jlow-uz  for  flow-er^. 


1.  The  ‘*’melai/choly  days  are  come. 

The  saddest  of  the  year. 

Of  wailing  winds,  and  naked  woods, 
And  '’’meadows,  brown  and  sear. 
Heaped  in  the  hollows  of  the  grove. 
The  ^thered  leaves  lie  dead; 

They  rustle  to  the  '’’eddying  gust. 

And  to  the  rabbit’s  tread. 

The  robin  and  the  wren  have  flown, 


144 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


And  from  the  shrub  the  jay, 

And  from  the  wood-top  calls  the  crow 
Through  all  the  gloomy  day. 

2.  Where  are  the  flowers,  the  fair  young  flowers, 

That  lately  sprang  and  stood 
In  brighter  light  apd  softer  airs, 

A +beatiteou8  ^siSterhood? 

Alas!  they  all  are  in  their  graves j 
The  gentle  race  of  flowers. 

Are  lying  in  their  lowly  beds, 

With  the  fair  and  good  of  ours. 

The  rain  is  falling  where  they  lie. 

But  the  cold  November  rain 
Calls  not  from  out  the  gloomy  earth 
The  lovely  ones  again, 

3.  The  wall-flower  and  the  violet. 

They  perished  long  ago. 

And  the  brier -rose  and  the  ^orchis  died 
Amid  the  summer's  glow; 

But  on  the  hill,  the  golden  rod. 

And  the  aster  in  the  wood. 

And  the  yellow  sun-flower  by  the  brooK 
In  autumn  beauty  stood. 

Till  fell  the  frost  from  the  clear,  cold  heaven. 
As  falls  the  plague  on  men. 

And  the  brightness  of  their  smile  was  gone 
From  ^upland,  glade,  and  glen. 

4.  And  nou\  when  comes  the  calm,  mild  day. 

As  still  such  days  will  come. 

To  call  the  squirrel  and  the  bee 
From  out  their  winter  home; 

When  the  sound  of  dropping  nuts  is  heard. 
Though  all  the  trees  are  still. 

And  Hwinkle  in  the  '^'smdiy  light 
The  waters  of  the  *^1411, 

The  south  wind  '^seafches  for  the  flowers 
Whose  '^'fragrance  late  he  bore. 

And  sighs  to  find  them  in  the  wood 
And  by  the  stream  no  more. 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


145 


5.  And  then  I think  of  one,  who  in 
Her  youthful  beauty  died, 

Ihe  fair,  myek  ■*'l)Ms^5oni  that  grew  up 
And  ■^fidc’d  by  my  side; 

In  the  cold,  moist  earth  Vv^e  laid  her, 

When  tlie  forest  cast  the  leaf, 

And  we  wept  that  one  so  lovely 
Should  haje  a life  so  ^brief: 

Yet  not  -^unmeet  it  was  that  one, 

Like  that  young  friend  of  ours. 

So  gentle  ayd  so  -^beautiful. 

Should  -^perish  with  the  flowers. 

Questions.— What  season  of  the  year  is  described?  What  is  said 
^oods,  and  meadows?  What  animals  are  spoken 
of?  What  flowers?  To  what  does  the  last  stanza  refer? 


LESSON  O 


1. 

8. 




Req''-ui-site  ; n,  (pro.  reh'-we-^ 
zit)  that  which  is  necessary. 

’'  tou-PER-iN-DU^  CED ; brought 
in  as  an  addition. 

Ac-qut-si^-tions  ; n.  qualities 
obtained. 


Ay  Per-wert^-ed  I V,  turned  from 
right  to  wrong. 

4.  In-vtn^-ci-ble:  adj.  not  to  be 
overcome. 

8.  Crit^-i-cism  ; n.  the  art  of 
judging  with  propriety. 


» It  must  be  borne  in  mind  by  the  pupil,  that  in  a large  class  of 
words  of  this  description,  the  last  two  syllables  are  pronounced  as 
one  syllable. 


ON  ELOCUTION  AND  READINCx. 

_ Pronounce  correctly.  Do  not  say  el-er-quvnce  for  el-o-qucnce ; 
tn-val-ew-ble  for  in-val-w-a-ble;  al-li-toods  nor  ai-ti-tshudes  for  at^ 
ti  -finlcs ; or-ii-oiz  for  or-a-tors ; in-tel-lcct-ew-al  for  in-tel-lect-M-al : 
ani-tin-ew-al  for  con-tin-i^-al. 

Articulate  each  letter  in  the  following  words  found  in  this 
lesson;  Do  not  say  mtis  for  mus<;  leace  for  leasf;  fanlce  for 
faulfs;  for  sep-a-ra-ted  ; chile  for  child ; presence  for 

pre-senf.?;  nex  for  ncKl;  Ji-7ies  tor  &-nest ; per-fec  for  per-feef. 

1.  The  business  of  training  our  youth  in  +el</cution, 
must  be  commenced  in  childhood.  The  first  school  is 
5th  R.— 13 


146 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


the  nursery.  There,  at  least,  may  be  formed  a distinct 
^arti?alation,  which  is  the  first  requisite  for  good  speak- 
ing. How  rarely  is  it  found  in  perfection  among  our 
orators ! 

2.  Words,  says  one,  referring  to  articulation,  should 

“be  delivered  out  from  the  lips,  as  beautiful  coins,  newly 
issued  from  the  mint;  deeply  and  accurately  impressed, 
perfectly  finished ; meatly  struck  by  the  proper  organs, 
distinct,  in  due  ‘‘'succession,  and  of  due  weight.”  How 
rarely  do  we  hear  a speaker  whose  tongue^,  teeth^,  and 
lips^,  do  their  office  so  perfectly  as  to  answer  to  this 
beautiful  description!  And  the  common  faults  in  artic- 
ulation, it  should  be  remembered,  take  their  rise  from 
the  very  nursery,  refer  to  other  particulars. 

3.  Grace  in  ‘‘'elocfuence,  in  the  pulpit,  at  the  bar,  can 
not  be  separated  from  grace  in  the  ordinary  manners,  in 
private  life,  in  the  social  circle,  in  the  family.  It  can 
not  well  be  superinduced  upon  all  the  other  acquisitions 
of  youth,  any  more  than  that  nameless,  but  invaluable 
quality,  called  good  breeding.  You  may,  therefore,  begin 
the  work  of  forming  the  orator  with  your  child ; not 
merel;^  by  teaching  him  to  declaim,  but  what  is  of  more 
‘‘'cons^uence,  by  observing  and  correcting  his  daily 
manners,  motions,  and  attitudes. 

4.  You  can  say,  when  he  comes  into  your  ‘‘‘apartment, 
or  presents  you  with  something,  a book  or  letter,  in  an 
awkward  and  blundering  manner,  “ Eeturn^,  and  enter 
this  room  again'^,”  or,  ^‘Present  me  that  book  in  a dif- 
ferent manner^”  or,  “ Put  yourself  into  a different  atti- 
tude^.” You  can  explain  to  him  the  difference  between 
thrusting  or  pushing  out  his  hand  and  arm,  in  straignt 
lines  and  at  acute  angles,  and  moving  them  in  flowing, 
'‘‘circlilar  lines,  and  easy,  graceful  action.  He  will  read- 
ily understand  you.  Nothing  is  ,jnore  true  than  that 
“the  motions  of  children  are  ‘‘‘originally  graceful;”  and 
it  is  by  suffering  them  to  be  perverted^,  that  we  lay  the 
foundation  for  invincible  ‘‘‘awkAvardness  in  later  life. 

5.  We  go,  next,  to  the  schools  for  children.  It  ought 
to  be  a leading  object,  in  these  schools,  to  teach  tlic  art 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


14/ 


of  reading.  It  ought  to  occupy  three  fold  more  time  than 
it  does.  The  teachers  of  these  schools  should  labor  to 
improve  themselves.  They  should  feel,  that  to  them,  for 
a time,  are  committed  the  future  '^'orafors  of  the  land. 

0.  We  would  rather  have  a child,  even  of  the  othei 
sex,  return  to  us  from  school  a first-rate  reader.^  than  a 
first-rate  performer  on  the  pianoforte.  We  should  feel 
that  we  had  a far  better  pledge  for  the  +intMigence  and 
talent^  of  our  child.  The  accomplishment,  in  its  per- 
fection, would  give  more  pleasure.  The  voice  of  song  is 
not  sweeter  than  the  voice  of  eloquence  ; and  there  may 
be  eloquent  readers'^  as  well  as  eloquent  speakers'^. 

7.  We  speak  of  perfection^  in  this  art : and  it  is  some 

thing,  we  must  say  in  defense  of  our  preference,  which 
we  have  never  yet  seen.  Let  the  same  pains  be  devoted 
to  reading,  as  are  required  to  form  an  accomplished  per- 
former on  an  instrument;  let  us  have,  as  the  ancients 
had,  the  formers  of  the  voice,  the  music  masters  of  the 
reading  voice;  let  us  see  years  devoted  to  this  accom- 
plishment, and  then  we  should  be  prepared  to  stand  the 
tccnnparison.  . ..  . /J 

8.  It  IS,  indeed,  a most  intellectual  accomplishment. 
So  is  ^usic,  too,  in  its  perfection.  We  do  b^^  no  means 
'‘■undervalue  this  noble  and  most  delightful  art,  to  which 
Socrates  aj^plied  himself,  even  in  his  old  age.  But  one 
■‘‘recommendation  of  the  art  of  reading  is,  that  it  requires 
a constant  exercise  of  mind.  It  involves  in  its  perfec- 
tion, the  whole  art  of  criticism  on  language.  A man 
may  possess  a fine  genius  without  being  a perfect  reader  ; 
but  he  can  not 'be  a perfect  reader  without  genius. 

Questions. — When  must  the  business  of  training  in  elocution  be 
commenced  ? What  excellent  comparison  is  employed  to  illustrate  a 
good  articulation?  What  is  the  relative  importance  of  good  reading? 
How  does  the  power  of  reading  with  perfection  compare  with  th^ 
power  of  excellent  musical  performance? 

Explain  the  inflections  marked  in  this  lesson. 

In  the  first  sentence  which  word  is  the  subject?  Which  words  are 
in  the  objective  case  ? Which  are  the  prepositions  ? In  the  last  sen- 
tence, which  words  are  in  the  objective  case  ? Which  are  the  verbs, 
and  in  what  mode  are  they?  Which  are  the  modes?  See  Pinneo’s 
Analytical  Grammar,  page  64,  Art.  154. 


148 


NEW  rlFTH  READER. 


LESSON  XLI. 


1.  Aech'-i-tects;  n.  (pro.  ark^- 
e-tects)^  builders,  makers. 

1.  Des^-ti-ntes  ; n.  ultimate  fate, 

appointed  condition. 

2.  Me-di-oc'-ri-ty;  n.  a middle 

state,  or  degree  of  talents. 

2.  Me^-di-o-cre;  n.  (pro.  me^-di- 
o-ker)^  a man  of  moderate 
talents. 

4-  Fi^-at;  n.  decree. 


5.  Con^-dor;  n.  a large  bird. 

5.  Em-pyr^-e-al;  adj.  relating  to 

the  highest  and  purest  region 
of  the  heavens. 

6.  Ca-reer^-ing;  adj.  moving  ra- 

pidly. 

6.  Prow^-ess;  n.  bravery,  bold- 
ness. 

6.  A-chieve^-ments;  n.  something 
accomplished  by  exertion. 


NO  EXCELLENCE  WITHOUT  LABOR. 

Utter  each  sound  distinctl3^  Do  not  say  cli’rac-ter  for  char- 
ac-ter ; dif’^'cnt  for  dif-fer-ent ; op^-site  for  op-po-site ; eryd-nunce 
for  em-i-ncnce ; in-vig^-ra-ted  for  in-vig-o-rated ; vig^-rous  for 
vig-or-ous. 

1.  The  '^education,  moral  and  '^intellectual,  of  every 
individual,  must  be,  chiefly,  his  own  work.  Eely  upon 
it,  that  the  ancients  were  right;  both  in  morals  and 
intellect,  we  give  the  final  shape  to  our  characters,  and 
thus  become,  '^emphatically,  the  architects  of  our  own 
fortune.  How  else  could  it  happen,  that  young  men, 
who  have  had  '^precisely  the  same  opportunities,  should 
be  continually  presenting  us  with  such  different  results, 
and  rushing  to  such  opposite  destinies  ? 

2.  Difference  of  talent  will  not  solve  it,  because  that 
difference  is  very  often  in  favor  of  the  disappointed  can- 
didate. You  will  see  issuing  from  the  wails  of  the  same 
college,  nay,  sometimes  from  the  bosom  of  the  same 
family,  two  young  men,  of  whom  one  will  be  admitted 
to  be  a genius  of  high  order,  the  other  scarcely  above 
the  point  of  mediocrity;  yet  you  will  see  the  genius 
sinking  and  perishing  in  poverty,  ^obscurity,  and 
wretchedness;  wdiile,  on  the  other  hand,  you  will  ob- 
serve the  mediocre  plodding  his  slow  but  sure  way  up 
the  hill  of  life,  gaining  steadfast  footing  at  every  step, 


ECLECTIC  SERIES.  149 

and  moanting,  at  length,  to  ‘^eiuiiicnco  and  distinction, 
an  ornament  to  liis  family,  a blessing  to  his  country. 

3.  Now,  whose  work  is  this?  '‘'Manifestly  their  own 
They  ai*e  the  architects  of  their  respective  fortunes. 
The  best  seminary  of  learning  that  can  open  its  portals 
to  you,  can  do  no  more  than  to  afford  you  the  ‘‘'oppor- 
tunity  of  instruction:  but  it  must  depend,  at  last,  on 
yourselves,  whether  you  will  be  instructed  or  not,  or  to 
what  point  you  will  push  your  ’‘"instruction. 

4.  And  of  this  be  assured,  I speak  from  ^observation 
a certain  truth : there  is  no  excellence  v/ithout  great 
LABOR.  It  is  the  fiat  of  fate,  from  wTiich  no  power  of 
genius  can  absolve  you. 

5.  Genius,  uncxerted,  is  like  the  poor  moth  that  flut- 
ters around  a candle,  till  it  scorches  itself  to  death.  If 
genius  be  desirable  at  alP,  it  is  only  of  that  great  and 
■‘'magnanimous  kind,  which,  like  the  condor  of  South 
A merica,  pitches  from  the  summit  of  '‘'Chimborazo,  above 
the  clouds,  and  sustains  itself  at  pleasure,  in  that  em- 
})yreal  region,  with  an  energy  rather  '‘’invigorated  than 
weakened  by  the  effort^. 

G.  It  is  this  capacity  for  high  and  long-continued 
exertion'",  tliis  ’‘  vigorous  power  of  profound  and  search- 
ing ’‘’investigation^,  this  careering  and  wdde-spreading 
■‘’comprehension  of  miiuk,  and  these  long  '‘’reaches  of 
thought,  that 

Pluck  bright  honor  from  the  pale-faced  moon, 

Or  dive  into  the  bottom  of  the  deep, 

And  drag  up  drowned  honor  by  the  locks^;” 

this  is  the  prowess^,  and  these  the  hardy  achievements, 
which  are  to  enroll  your  names  among  the  great  men  of 
the  earth. 

Questions. — Whose  work  is  the  educatiou  of  every  man?  What 
did  the  ancients  say  upon  this  point?  By  what  reasoning  does  the 
writer  prove  this  to  be  the  case?  What,  then,  is  required  to  secure 
excellence? 

Explain  the  inflections  marked  in  this  lesson. 


150 


NEAV  FIFTH  HEADER. 


LESSON  KLn.l/9 


1.  In  •EX''-o-RA-BLE ; adj.  that  can 
not  be  made  to  bend. 

1.  Des^-pot-ism;  n.  absolute,  un- 
controlled power. 

1.  Per-pe-tu-'-i-ty  ; n.  continued, 
uninterrupted  existence. 

3.  A-loof^  ; adv.  at  a distance. 

3.  VoR^-TEX ; 72.  a whirling  motion 

of  water,  a whirlpool. 

4.  SuF^-FRAGE ; n.  vote  given  in 

choosing  men  for  office. 

5.  PoRE-BO^-DiNG ; 72.  a foretell- 

ing. 

6.  Found^-er-ing  ; n.  being  filled 

wiih  water  and  sinking. 


6.  Har^-btn-ger  ; n.  that  which 
precedes  and  gives  notice  be- 
forehand of  any  thing. 

7.  Re-verse^  ; v.  to  turn  to  the 
contrary. 

7.  A-nal^-o-gy;  n.  resemblance 
between  things. 

8.  Im^-mi-nence  ; n.  a hanging 
over. 

10.  Spasms;  72.  ^ violent 

10.  CoN-vuL^-siONS ; 72.  / and  ir- 
regular contraction  of  the 
muscles  of  the  body. 

10.  Ex-tort^  ; v.  to  wring  or  force 
out  of. 


NECESSITY  OF  EDUCATION. 

Pronounce  correctly.  Do  not  say  ed-dy-cate  nor  ej-ju~cate  for 
ed-w-cate  ; spiles  for  spoils  ; vic-ter-y  for  vic-to-ry  ; pop-py-la-tion 
for  pop-w-la-tion  ; man-y-fac-ters  for  man-w-fact-wres  ; ag~ri-cul~ter 
nor  ag-ri-cul-tslmre  for  ag-ri-cult-iire ; yrov-i-dunce  for  prov-i- 
dence  ; ub-an-don  for  • a-ban-don  ; prov-er-ca-tion  for  prov-o-ca- 
tion ; spas-itms  for  spa^m^. 

1.  We  must  ‘^ediicate^  ! We  must  educate'^  ! or  we 
must  perish  by  our  own  prosjierity^.  If  we  do  not^, 
short  will  be  our  race  from  the  cradle  to  the  grave.  If 
in  our  haste  to  be  rich  and  mighty^,  we  outrun  our  lite- 
rary and  religious  institutions,  they  will  never  overtake 
us ; or  only  come  up  after  the  battle  of  liberty  is  fought 
and  lost,  as  spoils  to  "’’gr^e  the  victory,  and  as  ’^'re  - 
sources  of  inexorable  despotism  for  the  perpetuity  of 
our  bondage. 

2.  But  what  will  become  of  the  West,  if  her  prosperity 
rushes  up  to  such  a majesty  of  power,  while  those  great 
‘’'institutions  linger  , yrhich  are  necessary  to  form  the 
mind,  and  the  ‘’’conscience,  and  the  heart  of  the  vast 


KCLKGTJC  SERIES. 


151 


world?  It  must  not  be  permitted.  And  yet  what  is 
done  musd;  be  done  quickly,  for  population  will  not  wait^, 
and  ■^'confenerce  will  not  cast  anchor^,  and  manufactures 
will  not  shut  off  the  steam^,  nor  shut  down  the  gate, 
and  agriculture,  pushed  by  millions  of  freemen  on  their 
fertile  soil,  will  not  withhold  her  corrupting  abund- 
ance^. 

3.  And  let  no  man  at  the  East  quiet  himself,  and  dream 
of  lib^’ty,  whatever  may  become  of  the  West.  Our 
■^allianfce  of  blood,  and  political  institutions,  and  com- 
mon interests,  is  such,  that  we  can  not  stand  aloof  in  the 
hour  of  her  calamity,  should  it  ever  come.  Her'  destiny 
is  our'^  destiny ; and  the  day  that  her  gallant  ship  goes 
down,  our  little  boat  sinks  in  the  vortex  ! 

4.  The  great  experiment  is  now  making,  and  from  its  ex- 
tent and  rapid  filling  up,  is  making  in  the  West,  whether 
the  perpetuity  of  our  republican  institutions  can  be  '♦'re- 
conciled  with  universal  suffrage.  Without  the  education 
of  the  liead>  and  heart^  of  the  nation,  they  can  not  be ; 
and  the  question  to  be  decided  is,  can  the  nation,  or  the 
vast  balance  power  of  it,  be  so  imbued  with  intelligence 
and  virtue  as  to  bring  out,  in  laws  and  their  administra- 
tion, a perpetual  self-preserving  energy.  We  know  that 
the  work  is  a vast  one,  and  of  great  difficulty ; and  yet 
we  believe  it  can  be  done. 

5.  I am  aware  that  our  ablest  patriots  are  looking  out 
on  the  deep,  vexed  with  storms,  with  great  forebodings 
and  failings  of  heart,  for  fear  of  the  things  that  are  com- 
ing upon  us  ; and  I perceive  a spirit  of  ^impatience  ris- 
ing, and  distrust  in  respect  to  the  perpetuity  of  our 
republic ; and  I am  sure  that  these  fears  are  well  found- 
ed, and  am  glad  that  they  exist.  It  is  the  star  of  hope 
m our  dark  +horfzon.  Fear  is  what  we  need,  as  the  shi]) 
needs  wind  on  a rocking  sea,  after  a storm,  to  prevent 
foundering.  But  when  our  fear  and  our  efforts  shall 
tcorrespond  with  our  danger,  the  danger  is  past. 

6.  For  it  is  not  the  impossibility  of  seif-preservation 
which  threatens^  us ; nor  is  it  the  unwillingness  of  the 
nation  to  pay  the  price  of  the  preservation'  as  she  has 


NEW  FIFTH  KEADEK. 


152 

paid  the  price  of  tho  purchase'^-  of  our  liberties,  li  is  in- 
attention aud  inconsideration^  protracted  till  the  crisis  is 
past,  and  the  things  which  belong  to  our  peace  are  hid 
from  our  eyes.  And  blessed  be  God,  that  the  tokens  of 
a national  waking  up,  the  harbinger  of  God’s  mercy,  are 
multiplying  upon  us  ! 

7.  We  did  not,  in  the  darkest  hour,  believe  that  God 
had  brought  our  fathers  to  this  goodly  land  to  lay  the 
foundation  of  religious  liberty,  and  wrought  such  won- 
ders in  their  preservation,  and  raised  their  descendants 
to  such  hights  of  civil  and  relmious  liberty,  only  to  re- 
verse the  analogy  of  his  +p)r6^dence,  and  abandon  his 
work. 

8.  And  though  there  now  be  clouds,  and  the  sea 
roaring,  and  men’s  hearts  failing,  we’  believe  there  is 
light  behind  the  cloud,  and  that  the  imminence  of  our 
danger  is  intended,  under  the  gui4a^nce  of  Heaven,  to 
call  forth  and  apply  a holy,  ^fraternal  fellowship  be- 
tween the  East  and  the  West,  which  shall  secure  our 
preservation,  and  make  the  '^'prosperity  of  our  nation 
durable  as  time,  and  as  abundant  as  the  waves  of  the 
sea. 

9.  I would  add,  as  a motiv^^  immediate  action,  that,  if 
we  do  fail  in  our  great  '^experiment  of  self-government, 
our  destruction  will  be  as  signal  as  the  birthright  aban- 
doned, the  mercies  abused,  and  the  '^provocation  offered 
to  beneficent  Heaven.  The  descent  of  desolation  will 
correspond  with  the  past  elevation. 

10.  Ho  punishments  of  Heaven  are  so  severe  as  those 
for  mercies  abused^;  and  no  instrumentality  employed 
in  their  infliction  is  so  dreadful  as  the  wrath  of  man^. 
No  spasms  are  like  the  spasms  of  expiring  liberty,  and 
no  twailing  such  as  her  convulsions  extort. 

11.  It  took  Rome  three  hundred  years  to  die^;  and 
our  death,  if  we  perish,  will  be  as  much  more  terrific,  as 
our  intelligence  and  free  institutions  have  given  us  more 
bone,^sinew,  and  vitality.  May  God  hide  from  me  tlie 
day  when  the  dying  agonies  of  my  country  shall  begin^! 
Oh,  thou  beloved  land^,  bound  together  by  the  ties  of 


ECLECTIC  SERIES.  153 

brotlierhoocP,  and  common  interest^,  aad  perils^!  live 
forever — one  and  undivided^! 

Questions. — Wliy  is  education  so  necessary  in  this  country?  Can 
the  nation  continue  free,  without  the  influence  of  education  and 
religion?  Why  should  we  regard  the  prospects  of  this  nation  with 
fear?  What  can  be  the  advantage  of  a spirit  of  fear?  Why  maj 
we  trust  that  God  will  not  abandon  our  nation  to  ruin  ? What  wil^ 
insure  her  destruction?  What  is' said  of  the  greatness  of  such  a 
destruction?  What  are  the  most  dreadful  punishments  that  heaven 
can  inflict  upon  a nation?  How  would  our  destruction  compare  with 
that  of  Rome? 

Give  the  reasons  for  the  inflections  marked  in  the  2d  paragraph. 
(The  principle  of  negative  sentences  prevails  in  this  sentence.) 

In  what  mode,  tense,  number,  and  person,  is  “must  educate,”  in 
the  first  sentence  ? In  the  3d  paragragh,  for  what  noun  does  the 
pronoun  “Aer”  stand?  Parse  the  last  word  in  the  lesson. 


LESSON  XLIU.^J 


2.  0^-NYx;  n.  a gem  partly 
transparent. 

2.  Sap'-phire;  n.  (pro.  sa/^-fer), 
a precious  stone,  blue,  red, 
violet,  &c. 

2.  Crys^-tal;  n.  a regular  solid 
of  any  mineral. 


2.  Cor^-al;  n.  a kind  of  animal 
and  its  shell.  [lowish  color. 
2.  To^-paz;  71.  a gem  of  a yel- 
5.  Ad-just^-ed;  v.  settled,  re- 
duced to  a right  standard. 

5.  Pre-scri^bei);  v.  laid  down  as 
rules. 


TRUE  WISDOM. 

Pronounce  correctly.  Do  not  say  pur-chis^d  for  pur-chasM; 
for  jew-els  ; for  cor-al ; dis-triic-tion  for  de-struc-tioru 

1.  Where  shall  ^'wisefom  be  foiind^?  ,, 

And  where  is  the  place  of  '^understanding'"? 

Man  knoweth  not  the  price  thereof; 

Nor  can  it  be  found  in  the  land  of  the  living. 

2.  The  deep  saith^,  It  is  not  with  me^; 

And  the  sea  saith^,  It  is  not  with  me'^. 

It  can  not  be  gotten  for  gold, 

Nor  shall  silver  be  weighed  out  as  the  price  thereof. 
It  can  not  be  ^purchased  with  the  gold  of  Ophir, 


L54 


NEW  FIFTH  KEADER. 


With  the  precious  onyx,  or  the  sapphire. 

Gold  and  crystal  are  not  do  be  compared  with  it; 
Nor  can  it  be  purchased  with  jewels  of  fine  gold. 
No  mention  shall  be  made  of  coral,  or  of  pearls, 
For  wisdom  is  more  precious  than  rubies. 

The  topaz  of  Ethiopia  can  not  equal  it ; 

Nor  can  it  be  purchased  with  the  purest  gold. 

3.  Whence,  then,  cometh'^  wisdom?  ^ 

And  where  is"'  the  place  of  ‘‘'undeimanding  ? 

Since  it  is  hidden  from  the  eyes  of  all  the  living, 
And  kept  close  from  the  fowls  of  the  air? 

4.  ■’'Destruction  and  Death  say. 

We  have  heard  of  its  fame  with  our  ears. 

God  only  knoweth  the  way  to  it ; 

He  only  knoweth  its  dwelling-place. 

For  he  seeth  to  the  ends  of  the  earth. 

And  ■’'suTveyeth  all  things  under  the  whole  heaven. 

5.  When  he  gave  the  winds  their  weight^, 

And  adjusted  the  waters  by  measure^; 

When  he  prescribed  laws  to  the  rain^^ 

And  a path  to  the  ■’■glittS(ung  '’'thunderbolt^; 

Then  did  he  see  it,  and  make  it  known^: 

He  ■’'established  it,  and  ■’'sea^<?hed  it  out : 

But  he  said  unto  man. 

Behold!  the  fear  of  the  Eord^,  that  is  thy  wisdom, 
And  to  ’’'dep^a(*t  from  de^%,  thy  understanding. 

Questions. — Where  is  Ethiopia?  What  is  true  wisdom?  Can  it 
be  purchased  ? Where  can  it  be  obtained  ? 


EXERCISE  XIX. 

Their  shouts  now  trebly  swelled  the  gale.  The  trellis  was  cov- 
ered with,  trailers.  The  trustle  was  trundVd  in.  The  shout  of 
triumph  and  the  trump  of  fame. 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


155 


LESSON  XLIV.  J 

m 


1.  Mod-i-fi-ca^-tion;  n.  a particu- 

lar form  or  manner. 

1 Av^-e-nue;  n.  an  entrance. 

2,  In^-va-lid;  n.  a person  who  is 

sick. 

4.  Fran^-tic;  adj.  characterized 
by  violence  and  fury. 

6 E-merg^ed;  V.  reappeared, 
came  out  of. 


6.  Vi^-TALs;  n.  parts  of  the  body 
necessary  to  life. 

8.  Hec^-tic  ; adj.  habitual,  consti- 
tutional. 

9.  Par^-ox-ysms;  n.  severe  turns 
or  tits. 

9.  E-vixc^ed;  v.  made  evident. 

11.  Ghast^-ly  ; adj.  deathlike,  pale. 

14.  Wail;  n.  loud  weeping. 


THE  INTEMPERATE  HUSBAND. 

Remark. — Take  care  not  to  let  the  voice  grow  weaker  and  weaker, 
as  you  approach  the  end  of  the  sentence. 

Articulate  correctly.  Do  not  say  fnll-es  for  full-esif;  suf-rin 
for  suf-fer-inp';  sur-es  for  sur-es^;  iin-f eel-in  for  un-feel-in^; 
fren^s  for  friencZs;  heau-ti-jVy  for  beau-ti-f?d-ly ; ga-zin  for 
ga-zin^;  vi-er-lits  for  vi-o-lets;  ag-er-ni-zing  for  ag-o-ni-zing ; 
fea-ters  nov  fea-tslviires  for  feat-wres. 

1.  There  was  one  inodifieation  of  her  husband’s 
'^persecutions,  which  the  fullest  measure  of  Jane  Har- 
wood’s piety  could  not  enable  her  to  bear  unmoved. 
This  was  unkindness  to  her  feeble  and  suffering  boy. 
It  was  at  first  commenced  as  the  surest  mode  of  '^dis- 
tressing her.  It  opened  a direct  avenue  to  her  heart. 

2.  What  began  in  '^perverseness,  seemed  to  end  in 
hatred,  as  evil  habits  sometimes  create  '^perverted  "^prin- 
ciples.  The  wasted  invalid  shrunk  from  his  father’s 
glance  and  footstep,  as  from  the  approach  of  a foe. 
More  than  once  had  he  taken  him  from  the  little  bed 
which  maternal  care  had  provided  for  him,  and  forced 
him  to  go  forth  in  the  cold  of  the  winter  storm. 

3.  “I  mean  to  harden  him,”  said  he.  “All  the 
'•'neighbors  know  that  you  make  such  a fool  of  him,  that 
he  will  never  be  able  to  get  a living.  For  my  part,  I 
wish  I had  never  been  called  to  the  trial  of  supporting  a 


156 


NEW  FIFTH  READER 


useless  boy,  who  protends  to  be  sick  only  that  he  may 
be  +coaxed  by  a sili}^  mother.” 

4.  On  such  occasions,  it  was  in  vain  that  the  mother 
attempted  to  protect  her  ^hild.  She  could  neither 
shelter  him  in  her  bosom,  nor  control  the  frantic  vio- 
lence of  the  father.  Harshness,  and  the  agitation  of 
iear,  deepened  a disease  which  might  else  have  yielded. 
The  timid  boy,  in  terror  of  his  natural  '^j^rotector,  with- 
ered away  like  a '^blighted  flower.  It  was  of  no  avail 
that  friends  +remonstratei"  ‘ 


that  hoary -headed  men 


sins.  Intemperance  had  destroyed  his  respect  for  man, 
and  his  fear  of  God. 

5.  Spring  at  length  emerged  from  the  shades  of  that 
heavy  and  bitter  winter.  But  its  smile  brought  no 
gladness  to  the  declining  child.  +ConsumptioD  fed 
upon  his  vitals,  and  his  nights  were  full  of  pain. 

6.  “Mother,  I wish  I could  smell  the  violets  that 
grew  upon  the  green  bank  by  our  dear  old  home.”  “It 
is  too  earl}^  for  violets,  my  child.  But  the  grass  is  beau- 
tifully green  around  us,  and  the  birds  sing  sweetly,  as  if 
their  hearts  were  full  of  praise.” 

7.  “In  my  dreams  last  night,  I saw  the  clear  waters 
of  the  brook  that  ran  by  the  bottom  of  my  little  garden. 
1 wish  I could  taste  them  once  more.  And  I heard  such 
music,  too,  as  used  to  come  from  that  white  church 
among  the  trees,  where  every  Sunday  the  happy  people 
meet  to  worship'God.” 

8!  The  mother  knew  that  the  hectic  fever  had  been 
.long  increasing,  and  saw  there  was  such  an  unearthly 
brightness  in  his  eye,  that  she  feared  his  ■^'intellect  wan- 
dered. She  seated  herself  on  his  low  bed,  and  bent  over 
him  to  soothe  and  compose  him.  He  lay  silent  for  some 
time. 

9.  “Do  you  think  my  father  will  come?”  Dreading 
the  ■♦'agonizing  f agitation  which,  in  his  paroxysms  of 
coughing  and  pain,  he  evinced  at  the  sound  of  his 
father’s  well-known  footstep,  she  answered,  “I  think 
not,  love.  You  had  better  try  to  sleep.” 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


157 


10.  “Mother,  I wish  he  would  come.  I do  not  feel 
afraid  now.  Pcrha|)s  he  would  let  me  lay  my  cheek  to 
his  once  more,  as  he  used  to  do  when  I was  a babe  in 
my  grandmother’s  arms.  I should  be  glad  to  say  good- 
b}^  to  him  before  I go  to  my  Savior.” 

11.  Gazing  '^'intently  in  his  face,  she  saw  the  work  of 
the  destroyer,  in  lines  ^oo  plain  to  be  mistaken.  “My 
son,  my  dear  son,  say.  Lord  Jesus,  receive  my  spirit.” 
“Mother,”  he  replied,  with  a sweet  smile  upon  his 
ghastly  features,  “he  is  ready.  I desire  to  go  to  him. 
Hold  the  baby  to  me,  that  I may  kiss  her.  That  is  all. 
Now  sing  to  me,  and  oh!  wrap  me  close  in  your  arms, 
for  I shiver  with  cold.” 

12.  He  clung,  with  a death  grasp,  to  that  bosom 
which  had  long  been  his  sole  earthly  rrefuge.  “Sing 
louder,  dear  mother,  a little  louder,  I can  not  hear  you.” 
A tremulous  tone,  as  of  a broken  harp,  rose  above  her 
grief,  to  comfort  the  dying  child.  One  sigh  of  icy 
breath  was  upon  her  cheek,  as  she  joined  it  to  his:  one 
shudder,  and  all  was  over. 

13.  She  held  the  body  long  in  her  arms,  as  if  fondly 
hoping  to  warm  and  restore  it  to  life  with  her  breath. 
Then  she  stretched  it  upon  his  bed,  and  kneeling  beside 
it,  hid  her  face  in  that  grief  which  none  but  mothers 
feel.  It  was  a deep  and  sacred  ^solitude,  alone  with  the 
dead.  Nothing  save  the  soft  breathing  of  the  sleeping 
babe  fell  upon  that  solemn  pause. 

14.  Then  the  silence  was  broken  by  a wail  of  piercing 
sorrow.  It  ceased,  and  a voice  arose,  a voice  of  '^sup- 
plication for  strength  to  endure,  as  of  one  “seeing  Him 
who  is  invisible.”  Faith  closed  wdmt  was  begun  in 
weakness.  It  became  a prayer  of  thanksgiving  to  Him 
who  had  released  the  dove-like  spirit  from  the  prison- 
house  of  pain,  that  it  might  taste  the  peace  and  mingle 
in  the  melody  of  heaven. 

Questions. — What  is  the  subject  of  this  piece?  How  did  the  man 
treat  his  child?  What  effect  was,  in  this  way,  produced  on  the  health 
of  the  child?  Can  you  describe  the  scene  of  the  deathbed?  What 
did  the  child  dre.am  about  ? What  did  he  wish  to  say  to  his  father? 


158 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


LESSON  XLV.  4 


2 E-ma.'-cia-ted;  adj.  thin,  re- 
duced in  flesh. 

2.  Sway;  n.  power,  influence. 

3.  Se-clu^-ded;  adj.  retired,  lone- 

ly- 

4.  Mod^-u-la-ted  ; v.  adapted  to 
the  expression  of  feeling, 
varied. 


■ 4 

THE  INTEMPEKATE  HUSBAND.— Continued. 

Remark. — While  each  pupil  reads,  let  the  rest  observe,  and  then 
mention  which  syllables  are  pronounced  incorrectly,  and  which  omit- 
ted or  indirectly  sounded. 

Articulate  distinctly.  Do  not  say  slii-nin  for  shi-nin^;  ah 
for  al-mps^;  memories  mem-o-ries  ; heal-in  for  heal-inj^^; 
ole-es  for  olc?-es^ ; rexi’rent-ly  for  rev-er-ent-ly  ; witli’rin  for  with- 
er-in^;  for  se-lec-ted  ; /hne-raZ  for  fu-ner-al ; per-m’neni 

for  per-ma-nent ; in-frest-ed  for  in-ter-est-ed. 

1.  She  arose  from  her  supplication,  and  bent  calmly 
over  her  dead.  The  thin,  placid  features  wore  a smile, 
as  when  he  had  spoken  of  Jesus.  She  '’'composed  the 
shining  locks  around  the  pure  forehead,  and  gazed  long 
on  what  was  to  her  so  beautiful.  Tears  had  vanished 
from  her  eyes,  and  in  their  stead  was  an  expression 
almost  sublime,  as  of  one  who  had  given  an  angel  back 
to  God. 

2.  The  father  entered  ‘’'carelessly.  She  pointed  to 
the  pallid,  '’'immovable  brow,  “ See,  he  sulfers  no 
longer.”  He  drew  near,  and  looked  on  the  dead  with 
surprise  and  sadness.  A few  natural  tears  forced  their 
way,  and  fell  on  the  face  of  the  first-born,  who  was  once 
his  pride.  The  memories  of  that  moment  were  bitter. 
He  spoke  tenderly  to  the  emaciated  mother;  and  she, 
who  a short  time  before  was  raised  above  the  sway  of 
grief,  wept  like  an  infant,  as  those  few  ‘’'affectionate 
tones  touched  the  sealed  fountains  of  other  years. 


N-Di-CA^-TiONS ; n.  tokens, 
signs. 

10.  Tran^-sient;  adj.  of  short  du- 
ration. 

11.  Chast^-en-ed  ; (pio.  chais’nd) 
adj.  afflicted  for  correction. 

11.  Do-minMon;  n.  controlling 
influence. 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


159 


3.  Neighbors  aaid  friends  visited  them,  desirous  tc 
console  their  sorrow,  and  attended  them  when  they  com- 
mitted the  body  to  the  earth.  There  was  a shady  and 
secluded  spot,  which  they  had  ’’’consecrated  by  the 
burial  of  their  few  dead.  Thither  that  whole  little 
colony  were  gathered,  and,  seated  on  the  fresh  grass, 
listened  to  the  holy,  healing  words  of  the  ^inspired 
volume. 

4.  It  was  read  by  the  oldest  man  in  the  colony,  who 
had  himself  often  mourned.  As  he  bent  reverently  over 
the  sacred  page,  there  was  that  on  his  brow,  which 
seemed  to  say,  “ This  has  been  my  comfort  in  my  afflic- 
tion. Silver  hairs  thinly  covered  his  temples,  and  his 
low  voice  was  modulated  by  feeling,  as  he  read  of  the 
’’■frailty  of  man,  withering  like  the  flower  of  the  grass, 
before  it  groweth  up;  and  of  His  majesty,  in  whose  sight 
“a  thousand  years  are  as  yesterday  when  it  is  past,  and 
as  a watch  in  the  night.” 

5.  He  selected  from  the  words  of  that  compassionate 
One,  who  “gathereth  the  lambs  with  his  arm,  and  car- 
rieth  them  in  his  bosom,”  who,  pointing  out  as  an  exam- 
ple the  humility  of  little  children,  said,  “Except  ye  be- 
come as  one  of  these,  ye  can  not  enter  the  kingdom  of 
heaven,”  and  who  calleth  all  the  weary  and  heavy  laden 
to  come  unto  Him  that  He  may  give  them  rest. 

6.  The  scene  called  forth  ’’'sympathy,  even  from  manly 
bosoms.  The  mother,  worn  with  watching  and  weari- 
ness, bowed  her  head  down  to  the  clay  which  concealed 
her  child.  And  it  was  observed  with  gratitude  by  that 
friendly  group,  that  the  husband  supported  her  in  his 
arms,  and  mingled  his  tears  with  hers. 

7.  He  returned  from  the  funeral  in  much  mental  dis- 
tress. His  sins  were  brought  to  remembrance,  and  re- 
flection was  misery.  For  many  nights,  sleep  was  dis- 
turbed by  visions  of  his  neglected  boy.  Sometimes  he 
imagined  that  he  heard  him  coughing  from  his  low  bed, 
and  felt  ’’'constrained  to  go  to  him,  in  a strange  disposi- 
tion of  kindness,  but  his  limbs  were  unable  to  obey  the 
dictates  of  his  will. 


160 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


8.  Conscience  haunted  him  with  terrors,  and  many 
prayers  from  pious  hearts  arose,  that  he  might  now  be 
led  to  repentance.  The  '^venerable  man  who  had  read 
the  Bible  at  the  burial  of  his  boy,  counseled  and  en- 
treated him,  with  the  earnestness  of  a father,  to  yield  to 
the  warning  voice,  and  to  “break  off  his  sins  by  ‘^right- 
eousness, and  his  iniquities  by  turning  unto  the  Lord.” 

9.  There  was  a change  in  his  habits  and  conversation, 
and  his  friends  trusted  it  would  be  '^permanent.  She, 
who,  above  all  others,  was  interested  in  the  result,  spared 
no  '^'exertion  to  win  him  back  to  the  way  of  truth,  and 
soothe  his  heart  into  peace  with  itself,  and  obedience  to 
his  Maker. 

10.  Yet  was  she  doomed  to  witness  the  full  force  of 
grief,  and  of  remorse  for  intemperance,  only  to  see  them 
utterly  ‘^'overthrown  at  last.  The  reviving  virtue,  with 
whose  indications  she  had  '^‘solaced  herself,  and  even 
given  thanks  that  her  beloved  son  had  not  died  in  vain, 
was  transient  as  the  morning  dew. 

11.  Habits  of  industry,  which  had  begun  to  spring 
up,  proved  themselves  to  be  without  root.  The  dead, 
and  his  cruelty  to  the  dead,  were  alike  forgotten.  '^Dis- 
affection to  the  chastened  being,  who  against  hope  still 
hoped  for  his  '^dalvation,  '^resumed  its  dominion. 

12.  The  friends  who  had  ‘^alternately  reproved  and 
encouraged  him,  were  soon  convinced  their  efforts  had 
been  of  no  avail.  Intemperance,  “ like  the  strong  man 
armed,”  took  possession  of  a soul  that  lifted  no  cry  to 
God,  and  ‘^girded  on  no  weapon  to  resist  the  destroyer. 

Questions. — What  effect  was  produced  upon  the  father  by  the  death 
of  his  child?  What  were  his  friends  disposed  to  hope?  How  did 
intemperance  take  possession  of  him  ? Why  was  he  unsuccessful,  do 
you  suppose,  in  his  resistance  to  intemperate  habits  ? 

Explain  the  inflections  proper  in  the  first  three  paragraphs. 


EXERCISE  XX. 

Tmly  he  is  trusty  and  thrifty.  The  brute  was  with  difficulty 
ihrottVd.  Through  the  storm  and  danger'’ s thrall.  He  has  many 
cenU  and  but  little  sense.  The  prince  bought  some  prints 


eclectic  sekies. 


161 


LESSON  XLVI. 


1.  Ka '-di-ant;  adj.  beaming  with 

brightness. 

2 Date;  n.  tlie  fruit  of  a tree 
which  grows  in  warm  coun- 
tries. 

2.  Fra'-grant;  adj  sweet  smel- 

ling. 

2.  Per-fume^;  i;.  to  fill  with  plea- 
sant smells. 


2.  Hues  ; n.  colors. 

3.  Ptu^-BY ; n.  a precious  stone  of 

a red  color. 

3.  Dia^-mond  ; n.  a precious  stone 
of  the  most  valuable  kind. 

3.  Cor^-al;  n.  a kind  of  sea  ani- 
mal (hereused  as  an  adjective). 

3.  Strand  ; n.  a shore  or  beach  of 
the  sea. 


the  better  land. 

jo'a  final  consonant 
of  one  word  to  the  yowd  of  the  next  word,  as  in  the  following  linei 

Lou  das  his  thunder  shou  tis  praise 
And  soun  dit  lofty  as  his  throne. 

Pronounce  correctly  and  articulate  distinctly.  Do  not  say 

rS  for  X"t  “ ; feath-Wy  for  ‘feath-cr-y ; gUff- 

and  thp^  «i-ing;  pe7  -fume  (the  verb  is  pronounced 
and  the  notin,  pei'-fume),  for  per-fuine'. 

1.  “I  HEAR  thee  speak  of  the  better  land; 

Thou  call’st  its  children  a happy  band  • 

Mother^  6h,  where  is-  that  radiant  shore? 

Uiall  we  not  seek  it  and  weep  no  more"'? 

Is  It  where  the  flower  of  the  orange  +blows 
And  the  fireflies  dance  through  the  myrtle  boughs?” 
Not  there,  not  there,  my  child!” 

Is  it  where  the  +feathery  palm  trees  rise', 

And  the  date  gr^ws  ripe  under  sunny  skies'? 

mid  the  green  islands  of  +glittering  seas', 
Where  fragrant  forests  perfume  the  breeze'. 

And  strange,  bright  birds,  on  their  starry  wings 
ear  the  rich  hues  of  all  +glorious  things'?” 

“Not  there,  not  there,  my  child!” 

Is  it  far  away  in  some  "fregion  old, 

Where  the  rivers  +wander  o’er  sands  of  gold 
Where  the  burning  rays  of  the  ruby  shine,  ’ 
lights  up  the  +secret  mine, 


2. 


1G2 


NEW  FIFTH  KEADKK. 


And  the  pearl  ’’'gleams  forth  from  the  coral  strand  7 
Is  it  there,  sweet  mother,  tliat  better  land^?” 

“ Not  there,  not  there,  my  child  I 

4.  Eye  hath  not  seen^  it,  my  gentle  boy  ! 

Ear  hath  not  heard^  its  deep  sounds  of  joy ; 
Dreams  can  not  ’’'picture  a world  so  fair; 

Sorrow  and  death  may  not  enter  there^; 

Time  doth  not  breathe  on  its  ’’'fadeless  bloom, 
Beyond  the  clouds  and  beyond  the  tomb ; 

It  is  there,^  it  is  there^,  my  child^!’’ 

Questions. — What  climate  produces  the  myrtle,  palm,  and  date  ? 
Why  is  the  palm  tree  called  feathery  ? Where  is  that  “better  land,” 
spoken  of  in  the  lesson  ? 

What  inflection  should  be  used  at  the  word  “child,”  in  the  last 
line  of  the  first  stanza?  What  inflection  at  the  same  word  when 
repeated  in  the  other  three  stanzas?  Give  rules  for  the  other  inflec- 
tions. 


LESSON  XLVII.  > 7 


1.  Ail^'-ment;  n.  disease. 

X.  Ten''-dered;  V.  offered. 

,2.  Stren^-u-ous-ly;  adv.  strongly. 
3.  Ve^-he-mence;  n.  violence. 

3.  Men''- ACE ; n.  threat. 

4.  Mo-rose^-lt;  adv.  peevishly. 

6.  A-vid''-i-ty  ; n.  eagerness. 

6.  Al-tbr-ca-'-tion;  n.  dispute. 


8.  Oc''-u-lar;  adj.  by  the  eye. 

8.  Nui^-sance;  n.  something  of- 

fensive. 

9.  Cha-grin'';  n.  vexation. 

9.  PoRT-MAN^-TEAu;  71.  a valisc. 
9.  E-ma''-cta-ted  ; adj.  wasted. 
10.  Sa-tir^-i-cal;  adj.  bitter  in 
language. 


ILL-NATURE  REWARDED. 

Pronounce  correctly.  Do  not  say  bridliuz  for  broth-6r5  / fort- 
nitly  for  fort-w-nate-ly ; uppearunce  for  «p-pear-ance ; deVkii 
for  del-z-cate  ; ohvously  for  ob-vz-ous-ly ; tremendu-ous  for 
tre-men-doiis. 

1.  Two  gentlemen,  brothers,  called  at  the  oflS(?l^to 
take  seats  for  the  following  morning,  in  the  Kilkenny 
coach ; there  were  fortunately  two  inside  places  ’’'vacant. 
The  elder  brother  was,  from  his  appearance,  ’’  obviously 
suffering  under  some  ’’'oppressive  ailment,  and  the  other, 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


163 


in  ratlicr  a delicate  state  of  health.  Between  the  two 
there  happened  to  be  not  more  cash  than  was  sufficient 
to  pay  for  one  passenger;  the  second  brother  said  he 
would  bring  the  fare  with  him  in  the  morning  and  went 
away.  In  a short  time  after,  another  person  came  into 
the  office,  asked  for  a seat  in  the  coach,  tendered  his 
money,  '•'insisted  on  the  strict  rules  being  observed,  and 
was  booked  accordingly. 

2.  The  next  morning,  an  hour  before  day,  the  broth- 
ers arrived.  The  '•'invalid  got  in,  and  the  other,  putting 
down  his  fare  was  told  that  the  place  was  filled  by  one 
who  had  paid  his  money,  and  who  threatened  that,  if 
refused  his  place,  he  would  hire  a chaise  for  the  whole 
journey  to  Dublin,  at  the  expense  of  the  coach  Lpropri- 
etors.  The  young  man  looked  into  the  coach,  and  find- 
ing all  seats  occupied,  begged,  and  was  strenuously 
supported  by  his  brother,  to  be  admitted,  even  for  a 
stage  or  two,  as  he  was  not  in  good  health,  and  the  rain 
poured  down  in  a tremendous  '•'deluge. 

3.  The  rest  of  the  coach  company  seemed  to  yield, 
but  the  stiff  gentleman  was  contrary,  as  will  sometimes 
happen,  and  with  his  former  menace  silenced  the  agent, 
(who  was  leaning  to  the  side  of  mercy),  and  insisted 
with  increased  vehemence,  that  the  rules  of  the  office 
should  be  observed. 

4.  The  strict  person  was  owner  of  a great  flour-mill; 
ho  was  anything  but  a '^jolly  miller,  but  adhered  lite- 
rally and  morosely  to  the  principle  of  “ caring  for  no- 
body,” not  because  “nobody  cared  for  him,”  but  because 
it  was  the  habit  of  his  life  to  make  every  liberal  thought 
and  kind  intention,  which  accidentally  arose  in  his 
mind,  like  worldly  charity,  to  begin  at  home,  and  center 
in  himself. 

5.  He  was  wrapped  up  in  his  milling  '•'operations, 
and  eyed  his  bags  of  flour  with  the  same  avidity  as  a 
miser  would  those  of  his  gold.  He  was  that  sort  of  self- 
ish and  self-sufficient  person,  that  would  not  take  any 
moderate  boot  between  the  prime  minister  and  himself, 
and  thought  the  '•'machinery  of  the  state  of  little  impor- 


164 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


canoe,  compared  with  that  of  his  own  mill.  He  ordered 
the  coachman  to  get  forward,  with  some  further  menace 
if  he  did  not. 

6.  The  young  man,  after  a little  altercation,  took  his 
seat  beside  the  guard,  and  the  coachman  drove  off.  It 
was  still  dark;  the  rain  was  intense,  the  voices  ceased, 
and  the  invalid,  if  a gentle  snore  was  any  *^indication, 
had  fallen  asleep. 

7.  As  the  coach  was  passing  through  Fox  and  Geese 
Common,  a barking  cur  assailed  the  horses,  and  was 
apparently  H*esponded  to  by  a low  growl  from  the 
■^interior  of  the  '^vehicle.  “ Is  there  a dog  in  the  coach  ? ” 
asked  the  miller,  for  it  was  yet  pitch  dark.  Those  who 
were  awake  said  they  could  not  tell : the  invalid 
breathed  hard  and  snored ; in  a few  minutes  the  growl 
was  heard  again,  advancing  to  a sharper  snarl.  Have 
you  got  a dog  in  the  coach?”  asked  the  miller:  “it  is 
contrary  to  all  rule;  the  agent  is  at  fault,  and  shall  be 
fined;  it  shall  be  looked  to  when  the  coach  stops.” 

8.  A renewed  snarl  and  a few  chopping  barks  from 
the  opposite  seat  where  the  invalid  was  placed,  made 
the  miller  certain  that  the  dog  belonged  to  him,  and  lay 
behind  his  legs.  Not  wishing,  however,  to  put  out  his 
hand,  or  even  his  foot,  to  make  the  trial,  he  waited  for 
daylight  '^impatiently,  and  one  or  two  succeeding  growls 
from  the  same  quarter  confirmed  him  in  this  *^surmise. 
At  length  a tedious  dawn  gave  way  to  the  slowly  in- 
creasing light  of  a gloomy  morning.  The  miller  had  his 
eye  fixed  upon  the  spot,  and  as  objects  became  less  '^en- 
veloped in  shade,  he  chuckled  at  having  ocular  proof  of 
the  nuisance  which  he  determined  to  complain  of  ard 
get  rid  of  at  the  next  stage. 

9.  There  lay  the  dog,  as  he  conceived,  behind  his 
master’s  legs.  But  what  was  his  disappointment  and 
chagrin,  when  through  the  breaking  clouds,  a strong 
gleam  of  light  fell  not  upon — the  dog  of  his  *<*1  magi  nation 
— but  on  a small  portmanteau  belonging  to  the  invalid, 
who  at  the  sudden  burst  of  light  which  had  surprised 
and  disappointed  the  miller,  opened  his  e^^es,  keen, 


ECLECTIC  SERIES.  165 

sharp,  and  ■’'penetrating,  but  sunk  deep  in  a 2)ale  and 
emaciated  countenance. 

10.  “You  have  been  asleep,”  said  the  miller.  “Have 
I?”  was  the  repl}^.  “Have  you  a dog  in  the  coach?” 
“No.”  “Hid  you  not  hear  any  growling  or  snarling  in 
the  coach?”  “I  did  at  setting  off.''  “From  what  quarter 
did  you  hear  it?”  “From  yourself,  growling  about 
strict  rules.”  “You  are  satirical,  but  we  have  heard  a 
dog  in  the  coach,  and  it  shall  not  remain;  you  were 
asleep.”  “So  you  say.”  “You  snored  in  your  sleep.” 
“May  be  so.”  “Do  you  ever  growl,  or  snarl,  or  bark  in 
your  sleep?”  “It  is  not  improbable;  I have  not  been 
very  well;  but  Doctor  Middleton  tells  me  I am  cured.” 

11.  “Do  you  say  Middleton?  that’s  the  mad  doctor.” 
“He’s  a very  good  doctor,  and  I’ll  thank  him  the  longest 
day  I live.”  The  miller  in  some  little  alarm,  asked  in  a 
milder  tone,  “Were  you  in  the  house?”  “I  was,  for 
three  months,  and  he  '’'performed  a great  cure  for  me.” 
“May  I ask,”  said  the  now  '’'subdued  miller,  “what  was 
the  nature  of  your  '’'malady?”  “Why,  if  you  must 
know,”  replied  the  invalid,  “it  was  neither,  more  nor 
less  than  the  bite  of  a mad  dog.” 

12.  “Save  us,”  said  the  miller;  “and  did  the  doctor 

cifcct  a perfect  cure?”  “He  did,  and  sent  me  out  yes- 
terday, to  return  to  my  native  air,  saying  that  the 
trifling  ’’'symptom  of  snarling  like  a dog,  which,  perhaps 
may  have  '’’annoyed  you  in  my  sleep,  will  gradually 
wear  away,  and  does  not  signify,  as  I have  done  no 
mischief  for  the  last  month,  and  he  was  sure  that  going 
back  to  my  family  would  quiet  my  mind  and  set  all 
right.”  ^ 

13.  The  miller  s countenance  now '’'exhibited  a strong 
^expression  of  terror ; he  looked  '’'  wistfully  out  of  the 
window,  and  lamented  the  teeming  rain  which  pre- 
vented him  from  enjoying  a seat  outside.  At  this 
moment,  the  invalid  was  affected  by  a ’’'tremendous  fit  of 
snarling  and  barking,  resembling  so  perfectly  the  canine 
expression  of  the  most  furious  '’'irritation,  that  the  miller 
under  the  strongest  expression  of  alarm,  was  about  to 


166 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


get  out  of  the  coach,  when  the  invalid,  seizing  him  by 
his  coat,  grinned  at  him,  and  exhibited  a set  of  deformed 
teeth,  barking  ^vehemently  for  some  minutes,  and  then 
subsiding  into  a perfect  calm,  entreated  the  terrified 
miller  not  to  bo  in  the  least  alarmed,  that  it  was  all 
over,  and  that  he  might  depend  on  there  being  no 
danger  whatever. 

14.  Ey  this  time  the  coach  had  arrived  at  Elack 
Church.  The  rain  was  rather  heavier  and  more  ‘^perpen- 
dicular in  its  ■^desceftt.  During  the  change  of  horses, 
the  feverish  miller  called  for  a glass  of  spring  water, 
which,  when  presented  to  him  at  the  carriage  window, 
was  instantly  dashed  to  pieces  by  the  sufPerer,  Who 
recommenced  the  most  terrific  barkings  and  snarlings, 
accompanied  by  grinnings  and  "^gestures  trhe  most 
frightful,  through  all  of  which  he  roared  to  the  miller  to 
be  under  no  alarm,  that  it  would  not  signify,  that  Doctor 
Middleton  had  told  him  so,  that  he  had  bitten  no  one  for 
six  weeks,  and  that  he  would  be  quiet  again  in  a few 
minutes. 

15.  But  the  trembling  miller,  determined  not  to  trust 
him,  Dr.  Middleton,  or  the  nature  of  his  "^disorder, 
jumped  out  of  the  coach,  called  for  a chaise,  and  posted 
on  alone.  As  he  drove  ofP,  the  invalid  putting  his  head 
out  of  the  window,  invited  his  brother  into  the  vacant 
seat,  which  he  enjoyed  for  the  remainder  of  a ‘^'drench- 
ing  day,  to  the  mirth  of  the  passengers,  (previously 
made  acquainted  with  the  trick),  and  to  the  still  further 
■’‘annoyance  of  the  miller,  whom  they  passed  on  the 
road,  and  who  was  saluted  by  both  brothers  with  a 
familiar  nod  of  '’‘humorous  sarcasm,  and  an  exclamation 
from  both:  “You  should  observe  strict  rules.” 

Questions. — Relate  the  occurrence  here  described. 

What  is  the  subject  of  the  last  sentence,  “You  should  observe  strict 
rules  ? ” What  is  the  attribute 


EXERCISE  XXI. 

The  leaves  swell  and  spread  in  all  directions.  No  sprawling  nor 
drawling.  Scruples  of  delicacy  caused  him  to  shrink.  The  death 
shroud  fell  upon  the  shrine  of  his  idolatry. 


ECLECTIC  SEIUES. 


167 


LESSON  XLVIII. 


1.  Trow;  v.  suppose,  think. 

1.  Trap'-pings;  n.  ornaments. 

2.  Im^-be-cile;  n.  (pro. 

a sick  person. 


3.  In-ter-ve^ned  ; v.  situated  be- 

tween. 

4.  Tint^-ings;  n.  colorings. 

5.  Sti^-fled;  v.  suppressed. 


IT  SNOWS. 

Hemark; — Avoid  reading  in  a faint  and  low  tone.  This  is  a very 
common  fault  and  should  be  carefully  guarded  against. 

Pronounce  correctly.  Do  not  say  iron  for  trow  (pro.  tro); 
geth-uz  for  gath-ers;  to~ward^  for  to ward;  im-heerd  for  un- 
heard (pro.  un-herd). 

1.  ‘‘It  snows!”  cries  the  School-boy,  “ Hurrah  1”  and  his 

shout 

Is  ringing  through  parlor  and  hall, 

While  swift  as  the  wing  of  a swallow,  he’s  out. 

And  his  playmates  have  answered  his  call ; 

It  makes  the  heart  leap  but  to  witness  their  joy. 

Proud  wealth  has  no  pleasures,  I trow. 

Like  the  ^rapture  that  throbs  in  the  pulse  of  the  boy, 

As  he  gathers  his  "^treasures  of  snow ; 

Then  lay  not  the  trappings  of  gold  on  thine  heirs, 

While  health,  and  the  riches  of  nature,  are  theirs. 

2.  “It  snows!”  sighs  the  Imbecile,  “Ah!”  and  his  breath 
Comes  heavy,  as  '•'clogged  with  a weight ; 

While,  from  the  pale  '•'aspect  of  nature  in  death. 

He  turns  to  the  blaze  of  his  grate ; 

And  nearer  and  nearer,  his  soft-cushioned  chair 
Is  wheeled  toward  t^  life-giving  flame ; 

He  dreads  a chill  puff  of  the  snow-burdened  air. 

Lest  it  wither  his  '•'delicate  frame ; 

Oh ! small  is  the  pleasure  '•'existence  can  give. 

When  the  fear  we  shall  die  only  proves  that  we  live  I 

3.  “ItsnowS!”  cries  the  Traveler,  “Ho!”  and  tho  word 
Has  quickened  his  steed’s  '•'lagging  pace ; 


168 


NEV/  FIFTH  READER. 


The  wind  rushea  by,  but  its  howl  is  unbeard, 

Unfelt  the  sharp  drift  in  his  face; 

For  bright  through  the  tempest  his  own  liome  appeared, 
Ay,  though  leagues  intervened,  he  can  see: 

There’s  the  clear,  glowing  hearth,  and  the  table  prepared, 
And  his  wife  with  her  babes  at  her  knee; 

Blest  thought!  how  it  lightens  the  grief-laden  hour, 
That  those  we  love  dearest  are  safe  from  its  power! 

4.  “It  snows!”  cries  the  Belle,  “Dear,  how  lucky !”  and 

turned 

From  her  mirror  to  watch  the  flakes  fall. 

Like  the  first  rose  of  summer,  her  ‘^’dimpled  cheek  burns. 
While  musing  on  sleigh-ride  and  ball : 

There  are  visions  of  conquests,  of  ^splendor,  and  mirth, 
Floating  over  each  drear  winter’s  day ; 

But  the  tintings  of  Hope,  on  this  storm-beaten  earth. 
Will  melt  like  the  snowflakes  awaj" : 

Turn,  turn  thee  to  Heaven,  fair  maiden,  for  bliss ; 

That  world  has  a pure  Hount  ne’er  opened  in  this. 

5.  “It  snows!”  cries  the  WidoWj  “Oh,  God!”  and  her 

sighs 

Have  stifled  the  voice  of  her  prayer; 

Its  burden  ye  ’ll  read  in  her  tear-swollen  eyes. 

On  her  cheek  sunk  with  fasting  and  care. 

’T  is  night,  and  her  fatherless  ask  her  for  bread. 

But  “He  gives  the  young  ravens  their  food,” 

And  she  trusts,  till  her  dark  hearth  adds  '^horror  to 
dread, 

And  she  lays  on  her  last  chip  of  wood. 

Poor  ■^sufferer ! that  sorrow  thy  God  only  knows ; 

’ TJs  a most  bitter  lot  to  be  poor,  when  it  snows! 

Questions. — Why  does  the  school-boy  rejoice  when  it  snows? 
What  feelings  are  excited  in  the  sick  man  by  the  snow  storm?  What 
effect  does  it  have  upon  the  traveler,  and  what  does  he  think  about? 
Why  does  the  belle  congratulate  herself,  and  of  what  are  her  dreams  ? 
What  are  the  poor  widow’s  troubles  in  a time  like  this? 


KCLEOTIC  SERIES. 


1C)9 


LESSON  XLIX. 


1 l)is-As'-TERS ; n.  unfortunate 

events.  N. 

1.  In-tre-pid^-it-y  ; 7^.  courag^. 

2 Teiy^-i-al  ; adj.  trifling,  small 
8.  Rift^-ed  ; V.  split  open. 

8.  Ten^-drils  ; n.  the  claspers  of 
a vine. 


3.  Sol^-ace;  n.  comfort  in  grief. 

3.  Re-cEs^-ses;  n.  retirement,  se- 

cresy. 

4.  En-thu^-si-asm  ; n,  warmth  of 

feeling. 

5.  Re-trieve^;  v.  to  repair,  to 

restore  to  a good  state. 


THE  WIFE. 

Pronounce  correctly.  Do  not  say  for4i4chude  for  for-tit-ude ; 
for4en  nor  for4sliune  for  fort-wne  ; Prov-i-dunce  for  Prov-i-dence  ; 
con-grat4y4a4ing  for  con-grat-w-la-ting  ; sit-oo-a4ion  nor  sit-shu-a- 
tlon  for  sit-if-a-tion  ; stim~my-la~ted  nor  stim-er4a4ed  nor  stim- 
ew4a-ted  for  stim-w-la-ted  (pro.  stim-yu-la-ted). 

1.  I HAVE  often  had  occasion  to  remark  the  tfortitnde 
with  which  women  sustain  the  most  ^overwhelming  re- 
verses of  fortune.  Those  disasters  which  break  down 
the  spirit  of  a man,  and  prostrate  him  in  the  dust,  seem 
to  call  forth  all  the  energies  of  the  softer  sex,  and  give 
such  intrepidity  and  elevation  to  their  character,  that, 
at  times,  it  approaches  to  sublimity. 

2.  Nothing  can  be  more  touching,  than  to  behold  a 
soft  and  tender  female,  who  had  been  all  weakness  and 
^dependence,  and  alive  to  every  trivial  *^roughness,  while 
treading  the  prosperous  paths  of  life,  suddenly  rising  in 
mental  force  to  be  the  comforter  and  supporter  of  her 
husband  under  misfortune,  and  abiding,  with  unshrink- 
ing firmness,  the  most  bitter  blasts  of  "^adversity. 

3.  As  the  vine,  which  has  long  twined  its  graceful 
^foliage  about  the  oak,  and  been  lifted  by  it  into  sun- 
shine, will,  when  the  hardy  plant  is  rifted  by  the  +thun- 
derbolt,  cling  around  it  with  its  caressing  tendrils,  and 
bind  up  its  +sha.ttered  boughs  ; so  it  is  beautifully  or- 
dered by  Providence,  that  woman,  who  is  the  mere 
dependent  and  ornament  of  man  in  his  happier  hours, 
should  be  his  stay  and  solace,  when  smitten  with  sudden 

5th  R.— 15 


170 


NETT  FIFTH  PwEADEK 


calamity^  ; winding  herself  into  the  '^'rugged  recesses  of 
his  nature^,  tenderly  supporting  the  drooping  head^,  and 
binding  up  the  broken  heart^. 

4.  I was  once  congratulating  a friend,  who  had  around 
him  a blooming  family,  knit  together  in  the  strongest 
■‘'affection.  I can  wish  you  no  better  lot,”  said  he,  with 
enthusiasm^,  “ than  to  have  a wife  and  children.  If  you 
are  prosperous,  there  they  are  to  share'^  your  pros- 
perity ; if  otherwise^,  there  they  are  to  comfort^  you.” 

5.  And,  indeed,  I have  observed,  that  a married'  man, 
falling  into  misfortune,  is  more  apt  to  retrieve  his  situa- 
tion in  the  world  than  a single'^  one ) partly,  because  he 
is  more  '‘'stimulated  to  exertion  by  the  '‘'necessities  of  the 
helpless  and  beloved  beings  who  depend  upon  him  for 
^subsistence^  ; but  chiefly,  because  his  spirits  are  soothed 
and  relieved  by  domestic  '‘'endearments,  and  his  self- 
respect  kept  alive  by  finding,  that,  though  all  abroad  is 
darkness  and  humiliation,  yet  there  is  still  a little  world 
of  love  at  home,  of  which  he  is  the  tmonarch^.  'Whereas, 
a single  man  is  apt  to  run  to  waste  and  self-neglect,  to 
fancy  himself  lonely  and  abandoned,  and  his  heart  to 
fall  to  ruin,  like  some  deserted  '‘‘mansion,  for  want  of 
an  inhabitant. 

Questions. — To  what  natural  object  is  female  fortitude  beautifully 
compared  ? hy  should  a man  have  a Tamily  ? What  is  apt  to  be 
the  case  with  the  single  man,  as  to  character  and  comfort?  Give 
rules  for  the  inflections. 

To  Teachers. — The  words  marked  thus  for  spelling  and  defi- 
nition, should  by  no  means  be  passed  over  by  the  teacher.  The  pupil 
should  be  required  to  spell  and  define  them,  giving  them  that  definition 
which  is  appropriate  in  the  connection  in  which  they  are  used. 


EXERCISE  XXII. 

We  traveVd  through  extensive  tracts  of  territonj.  The  transi- 
tion was  extreme  and  sudden.  Proofs  of  the  crime  of  an  irrefraga- 
ble nature  produced.  The  tragic  nature  of  the  scene  seemed 

rather  attractive  than  repulsive. 


KCLECTIC  SICRIES. 


171 


LESSON  L.J 


I Ter'-race,*  n.  a raised  bank 
of  earth. 

8.  Broid^-ered;  v,  adorned  with 
figures  of  needle  work. 

3.  Em-'-e-rald;  n.  a gem  of  pure 
lively  grefen  color  (used  here 
as  an  adjective). 

3.  Al^-a-bas-ter;  n.  a soft,  white 
marble. 

3.  Cor'-o-net;  n.  a little  crown. 

5.  DtT-cAL ; adj.  pertaining  to  a 
duke. 


6.  Heir''-loom  ; n.  any  article 
which  by  law  descends  to  the 
heir  with  the  real  estate. 

7.  De-co^-rum;  n,  propriety  of 
behavior. 

7.  Lus''-ter;  n.  brightness. 

8.  Pan^-ic;  n.  sudden  alarm. 

10.  Quest;  n.  search. 

11.  Leg^-a-cy;  n.  what  is  left  by 
will. 

12.  Am^-bush;  n.  a concealed' 
place. 


GINEVRA. 

Pronounce  correctly.  Reg-gi-o,  pro.  red-je-o;  fount-ains,  pro. 
fount-ins.  Do  not  say  sta-clioos  for  stat-ites ; sets  for  sits ; for-ud 
for  io^-ward;  in-ner-sunt  for  in-no-cent;  haunt  for  haunt,  (pro. 
haunt);  mel-er-dy  for  mel-o-dy;  dn-cient  for  an-cient;  i-ver-ry 
fcr  i-vo-ry  ; fast-en-ed,  pro.  fas^rdd. 

1.  If  ever  you  should  come  to  Modena, 

Stop  at  a palace  near  the  Eeggio  gate, 

Dwelt  in  of  old  by  one  of  the  Donati. 

Its  noble  gardens,  terrace  above  terrace. 

And  rich  in  ^fountains,  '‘'statues,  '‘'cypresses. 

Will  long  detain^  you;  hut,  before  you  go^. 

Enter  the  house^ — forget  it  not,  I pray^  you ; 

And  look  awhile  upon  a picture  there. 

2.  'Tis  of  a lady  in  her  earliest  youth. 

The  last  of  that  '‘'illustrious  family ; 

Done  by  Zampieri;  but  by  whom  I care  not. 

He,  who  observes  it,  ere  he  passes  on 
Gazes  his  fill,  and  comes  and  comes  again, 

That  ho  may  call  it  up  when  far  away. 

3 She  sits,  inclining  forward  as  to  speak, 

Her  lips  half  open,  and  her  finger  up. 


172 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


As  though  she  said^,  Beware^!”  her  vest  of  gold, 
Broidered  with  flowers,  and  clasped  from  head  to  foot; 
An  emerald  stone  in  every  golden  clasps ; 

And  on  her  brow,  fairer  than  alabaster,  ^ 

A coronet  of  pearls^. 

4.  But  then  her  face. 

So  lovely^,  yet  so  arch^,  so  full  of  mirth. 

The  overflowings  of  an  innocent  heart; 

It  '^'haunts^me  still,  though  many  a year  has  fled, 
Like  some  wild  '^'melody ! 

5.  Alone  it  hangs 

Over  a ‘^'moldering  heirloom;  its  companion. 

An  oaken  chest,  half  eaten  by  the  worm. 

But  richly  carved  by  Antony  of  Trent, 

With  scripture  stories  from  the  life  of  Christ; 

A chest  that  came  from  Yenice,  and  had  held 
The  ducal  robes  of  some  old  ^ancestors — 

That  by  the  way,  it  may  be  true^  or  false^ — 

But  do  n’t  forget  the  picture ; and  you  will  not. 
When  you  have  heard  the  tale  they  told  me  there. 

C She  was  an  only  child,  her  name  Ginevra, 

The  joy,  the  pride  of  an  indulgent  father; 

And  in  her  fifteenth  year  became  a bride. 

Marrying  an  only  son,  Francesco  Doria, 

Her  playmate  from  her  birth,  and  her  first  love. 

7.  Just  as  she  looks  there,  in  her  '^bridal  dress, 

She  was  all  gentleness,  all  gayety. 

Her  pranks  the  favorite  theme  of  every  tongue. 

But  now  the  day  was  come,  the  day,  the  hour ; 

How,  frowning,  smiling  for  the  hundredth  time. 

The  nurse,  that  ancient  lady,  preached  decorum ; 
And,  in  the  luster  of  her  youth,  she  gave 
Her  hand,  with  her  heart  in  it,  to  Francesco^. 

8.  Great  was  the  joy^;  but  at  the  nuptial  feast. 

When  all  sat  down,  the  bride  herself  was  wanting; 
Nor  she  to  be  found!  Her  farther  cried, 


KOLECTIC  SERIES. 


17 


“’T  is  but  to  make  a trial  of  our  love!” 

And  filled  his  glass  to  all ; but  his  hand  shook, 

And  soon  from  guest  to  guest  the  panic  spread. 

9 ’T  was  but  that  instant  she  had  left  Frances'co, 
Laughing  and  looking  back  and  flying  still, 

Her  ivory,  tooth  '•'imprinted  on  his  finger. 

But  now,  alas ! she  was  not  to  be  found ; 

Hor  from  that  hour  could  any  thing  be  guessed, 
But  that  she  was  not  1 

to  Weary  of  his  life, 

Francesco  flew  to  Yenice,  and  '•'embarking, 

Flung  it  away  in  battle  with  the  Turk. 

Donati  lived^;  and  long  might  you  have  seen 
An  old  man  wandering  as  in  quest  of  something. 
Something  he  could  not  find,  he  knew  not  what. 
When  he  was  gone,  the  house  remained  awhile 
Silent  and  tenantless ; then  went  to  strangers. 

11.  Full  fifty  years  were  past,  and  all  forgotten. 
When  on  an  idle  day,  a day  of  search 
’Mid  the  old  '•'lumber  in  the  gallery. 

That  moldering  chest  was  noticed;  and  ’twas  said 
By  one  as  young,  as  thoughtless  as  Ginevra, 
“Why  not  remove'^  it  from  its  lurking  place?” 
’Twas  done  as  soon  as  said;  but  on  the  way 
It  bursY,  it  felF;  and  lo!  a '^skeleton>^ 

With  here  and  there  a pearl,  an  emerald  stone, 

A golden  clasp,  clasping  a shred  of  gold. 

All  else  had  perished,  save  a wedding  ring. 

And  a small  seal,  her  mother’s  legacy, 

■•'Engraven  with  a name,  the  name  of  both ; 
“Ginevra.” 

12  — There  then  had  she  found  a grave: 

Within  that  chest  had  she  concealed  herself. 
Fluttering  with  joy,  the  happiest  of  the  happy; 
When  a '•'springlock,  that  lay  in  ambush  there, 
Fastened  her  down  for  ever  1 


Questions. — Where  is  Modena?  Relate  this  story. 


J74 


«13W  FIFTH  READER. 


LESSON  LI.  ,/ 


2.  A-lac'-ri-ty;  cheerful  readi- 
ness. 

2.  E-las^-tic;  adj.  rebounding, 
springing  back. 

4.  Vi-cis'-si-tude;  n.  change,  rev- 
olution. 

6.  ScRU^-PU-LOUs;  adj.  careful, 
nicely  doubtful. 


5.  In-teg^-ri-ty  ; n.  honesty  of 
purpose. 

7.  Mea^-ger;  adj.  small,  scanty. 

7.  Streami-let;  n.  a little  stream, 
a brook. 

7.  Im-ped^-i-ment;  n.  hinderance. 
7.  IIav''-oc;  n.  wide  destruction. 
7.  Ca-reer^;  n.  course. 


DECISIVE  INTEGRITY. 

Give  the  r its  rolling  sound  in  the  following  words  in  this 
lesson:  strongest,  approbation,  secret,  afraid,  alacrity,  brilliant, 
right,  free,  erect,  heroic,  phrase,  pride,  constrain,  private,  scrupu- 
lous, integrity,  drives,  morality,  greatness,  streamlets,  presents, 
torrent,  purity. 

1.  The  man  who  is  so  conscious  of  the  rectitude  of  his 
intentions,  as  to  be  willing  to  open  his  bosom  to  the 
inspection  of  the  world,  is  in  possession  of  one  of  the 
strongest  pillars  of  a decided  character.  The  course  of 
such  a man  will  be  firm  and  steady,  because  he  has 
nothing  to  fear  from  the  world,  and  is  sure  of  the 
■•'approbation  and  support  of  heaven.  While  he,  who  is 
conscious  of  secret  and  dark  designs,  which,  if  known, 
would  blast  him,  is  perpetually  shrinking  and  dodging 
from  public  observation,  and  is  afraid  of  all  around,  and 
much  more  of  all  above  him. 

2.  Such  a man  may,  indeed,  pursue  his  iniquitous 
plans  steadily;  he  may  waste  himself  to  a skeleton  in 
the  guilty  pursuit;  but  it  is  impossible  that  he  can 
pursue  them  with  the  same  health-inspiring  tconfidence 
and  exulting  alacrity  with  him  who  feels,  at  every  step, 
that  he  is  in  the  pursuit  of  honest  ends,  by  honest  means. 
The  clear,  unclouded  brow,  the  open  countenance,  the 
brilliant  eye,  which  can  look  an  honest  man  steadfastly, 
yet  '•'courteously,  in  the  face,  the  healthfully  beating 
heart,  aud  the  firm,  elastic  step,  belong  to  him  whoso 


KCLECTIC  SEKIES. 


175 


4 bosom  is  free  from  guile^  and  who  knows  that  all  his 
\ purposes  are  pure  and  right, 
v-x  3.  Why  should  such  a man  falter  in  his  course?  He 
may  he  tslandered;  he  may  bo  deserted  by  the  world; 
out  ho  has  that  within  which  will  keep  him  erect,  and 
enable  him  to  move  onward  in  his  course,  with  his  eyes 
fixed  on  heaven,  which  he  knows  will  not  desert  him. 

4.  Let  your  first  step,  then,  in  that  -^discipline  which 
is  to  give  you  decision  of  character,  be  the  heroic  deter- 
mination to  be  honest  men,  and  to  preserve  this  charac- 
ter through  every  vicissitude  of  fortune,  and  in  every 
relation  which  connects  you  with  society.  I do  not  use 
this  phrase,  “honest  men,”  in  the  narrow  sense  merely 
of  meeting  your  "^pecuniary  engagements,  and  paying 
your  debts;  for  this  the  common  pride  of  gentlemen  will 
constrain  you  to  do. 

5.  I use  it  in  its  larger  sense  of  -^discharging  all  your 
^ duties,  both  public  and  private,  both  open  and  secret, 

with  the  most  scrupulous,  -^heaven-attesting  integrity; 
in  that  sense,  further,  which  drives  from  the  bosom  all 
little,  dark,  crooked,  sordid,  debasing  "^-considerations  of 
self,  and  substitutes  in  their  place  a bolder,  loftier,  and 
nobler  spirit;  one  that  will  dispose  you  to  consider  your- 
selves as  born,  not  so  much  for  yourselves,  as  for  your 
country  and  your  fellow-creatures,  and  which  will  lead 
you  to  act,  on  every  occasion,  sincerely,  justly,  gener- 
ously, -^magnanimously. 

6.  There  is  a morality  on  a larger  scale,  perfectly 
consistent  with  a just  attention  to  your  own  affairs, 
which  it  would  be  the  hight  of  folly  to  neglect:  a gener- 
ous expansion,  a proud  elevation  and  conscious  greatness 
of  character,  which  is  the  best  preparation  for  a decided 
course,  in  every  situation  into  which  you  can  be  thrown ; 
and  it  is  to  this  high  and  noble  tone  of  character  that 
I would  have  you  to  '♦'aspire. 

7.  I would  not  have  you  resemble  those  weak  and 
meager  streamlets,  which  lose  their  '♦"direction  at  every 
petty  impediment  which  presents  itself,  and  stop,  and 
turn  back,  and  creep  around,  and  search  out  every  little 


176 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


^■uliannel  tlirougli  which  they  may  wind  their  feeble  and 
sickly  course.  Nor  yet  would  I have  you  resemble  the 
headlong  torrent  that  carries  havoc  in  its  mad  career. 

8.  Eut  I would  have  you  like  the  ocean,  that  noblest 
emblem  of  ‘’'majestic  decision,  which,  in  the  calmest 
hour,  still  heaves  its  resistless  might  of  waters  to  the 
i^hore,  filling  the  heavens,  day  and  night,  with  the 
echoes  of  its  sublime  declaration  of  independence,  and 
tossing  and  sporting  on  its  bed,  with  an  ’’'imperial 
■’'consciousness  of  strength  that  laughs  at  ‘’'opposition. 
It  is  this  depth,  and  weight,  and  power,  and  purity  of 
character,  that  I would  have  you  to  resemble;  and  1 
would  have  you,  like  the  waters  of  the  ocean,  to  become 
the  purer  by  your  own  action. 

Questions. — What  is  said  of  the  man  who  is  conscious  of  the  recti 
tude  of  his  intentions?  What  of  the  man  of  the  opposite  description? 
What  is  the  first  step  in  gaining  decision  of  character?  What  would 
the  author  not  have  you  resemble?  What  would  he  have  you  like? 


LESSON  LII . 


1.  Prec''-e-dent;  n.  something 

that  serves  for  an  example. 

2.  Pro-cras-ti-na^-tion;  n,  de- 
/ lay. 

8.  Palm;  ti.  victory. 

4.  Driv^-el  ; V.  to  be  foolish. 

4.  Re-ver^'-sion  ; n,  right  to  fu- 
^ ture  possession. 


4.  Vails  ; n.  money  given  to  ser- 

vants. here  means  that 

which  may  be  spent  for  plea- 
sure. This  word  is  obsolete^ 
that  iSj  it  is  not  now  used.) 

5.  Dil^-a-tory;  adj.  slow,  delay- 
^ ing. 

6.  Chides;  v.  reproves. 


PROCRASTINATION. 

s 

Articulate  distinctly.  Do  not  say  jprec'dent  for  prec-e-dont; 
pro-crasfna-tion  for  pro-cras-ti-na-tion ; e4er-n^l  for  e-ter-nal ; mi- 
racoons  for  mi-rac-w-lous ; extent  for  ex-cel-lent ‘s^pec^s  for  sus- 
pects ; in-f^mous  for  in-fa-mous. 


1.  Ee  wise  to  day.  ’Tis  madness  to  ’’‘defer: 
Next  day  the  ’’’fatal  precedent  will  plead ; 
Thus  on,  till  wisdom  is  pushed  out  of  life. 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


177 


2.  Procrastination  is  tlio  thief  of  time: 

Year  after  year  it  steals,  till  all  are  fled, 

And  to  the  mercies  of  a moment,  leaves 
The  vast  ’’’concerns  of  an  ’’’eternal  scene. 

If  not  so  frequent,  would  not  this  be  strange  ? 
That  ’t  is  so  frequent,  this  is  stranger  still. 

3.  Of  man’s  ’’’miraculous  mistakes,  this  hears 
The  palm,  that  all  men  are  about  to  live, 

Forever  on  the  ’’’brink  of  being  born. 

4.  All  pay  themselves  the  ’’’compliment  to  think 
They  one  day  shall  not  drivel ; and  their  pride 
On  this  reversion  takes  up  ready  praise. 

At  least  their  own:  their  future  selves  ’’’applaud; 
How  excellent  that  life  they  ne’er  will  lead ! 

Time  lodged  in  their  own  hands  is  folly’s  vails ; 
That  lodged  in  fate’s,  to  wisdom  they  ’’’consign : 
The  thing  they  can’t  but  purpose,  they  ’’’postpone, 

5.  ’Tis  not  in  folly  not  to  scorn  a fool; 

And  scarce  in  human  wisdom  to  do  more. 

All  promise  is  poor  dilatory  man. 

And  that  through  dVery  stage:  when  young  indeed, 
In  full  content,  we  sometimes  nobly  rest 
Unanxious  for  ourselves:  and  only  wish. 

As  duteous  sons,  our  fathers  were  more  wise. 

6.  At  thirty,  man  ’’’suspects  himself  a fool ; 

Knows  it  at  forty,  and  ’’’reforms  his  plan  ; 

At  fifty,  chides  his  ’’’infamous  delay. 

Pushes  his  prudent  purpose  to  resolve; 

In  all  the  ’’’magnanimity  of  thought 

Eesolves ; and  ’’’re-resolves ; then  dies  the  same. 

Questions — Name  some  of  the  evils  of  procrastination?  What,  of 
all  things,  are  men  most  apt  to  defer  ? 


EXERCISE  XXIII. 

Pnceless  was  the  offering.  The  wound  was  thoroughly  proVd. 
Principle  may  not  he  profitable.  The  hooks  are  printed.  Spring 
flings  her  rosy  mantle  o^er  the  plains.  The  rowers  ply  their  weary 
oars. 


178 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


LESSON  LIII.: 


2 Pro-pel^;  v.  to  push  forward. 

3.  En-gin-eer^;  7i.  one  who  mana- 
ges engines. 

3.  Steam^-gauge  ; n.  something 
which  measures  the  force  of 
the  steam. 

3.  ScRU^-Ti-Ni-zEs;  V.  examines 

closely. 

4.  PoN^-DER-ous;  adj.  very  heavy. 
4.  Pis^-ton;  n.  a short  cylinder 

used  in  pumps  and  engines. 
6.  CoM^-PLi-cA-TED ; iidj.  intricate. 


5.  n.  the  smaller 
particulars. 

6.  Fric^-tion;  n.  rubbing. 

10.  Mo-ment^-um;  n.  the  quantity 

of  motion. 

11.  Sym^-dgl;  71.  type  or  emblem. 
11.  Res-er-voir^;  n.  (pro.  rez-er- 

vwor^)  a place  where  any 
thing  is  kept  in  store. 

13.  Sus-cep-ti-bil^-i-ties;  n.  ca- 
pacity for  receiving  impres- 
sions. 


THE  STEAMBOAT  TRIAL. 

Remark. — Do  not  let  the  voice  grow  weaker  at  the  last  words  of  a 
sentence. 

Pronounce  correctly.  Do  not  say  ac-ieio-al  for  act-w-al ; 
neer  for  en-gin-eer ; hi4er  for  boil-er ; fas^nings  for  fas^-en-ings ; 
mom-munce  for  move-ments ; in-gine  for  en-gine  (pro.  en-gin); 
jint  for  joint;  He  for  oil;  fur-mss  for  fur-nace;  gov-uns  for 
gov-07ms.  ^ 

1.  The  Bible  everywhere  ^conveys  the  idea  that  this 
life  is  not  our  home,  but  a state  of  ‘’’probation,  that  is,  of 
trial  and  ’^discipline.,  which  is  intended  to  prepare  us  for 
another.  In  order  that  all,  even  the  youngest  of  my 
readers,  may  understand  what  is  meant  by  this,  I shall 
tillustrate  it  by  some  familiar  examples,  drawn  from  the 
actual  business  of  life. 

2.  When  a large  steamboat  is  built,  with  the  inten- 
tion of  having  her  employed  upon  the  waters  of  a great 
river,  she  must  be  proved  before  put  to  service.  Before 
trial,  it  is  somewhat  doubtful  whether  she  will  succeed. 
In  the  first  place,  it  is  not  absolutely  certain  whether 
her  ■’‘machinery  will  work  at  all.  There  may  be  some 
flaw  in  the  iron,  or  an  imperfection  in  some  part  of  the 
^workmanship,  which  will  prevent  the  motion  of  her 
wheels.  Or,  if  this  is  not  the  case,  the  power  of  the  ma- 


ELECTIC  SERIES. 


179 


chineiy  may  not  bo  sufficient  to  propel  her  through  the 
water  with  such  force  as  to  overcome  the  current;  or 
she  may,  when  brought  to  encounter  the  rapids  at  some 
narrow  passage  in  the  stream,  not  be  able  to  force  her 
way  against  their  resistance. 

3.  The  engineer,  therefore,  resolves  to  try  her  in  all 
these  respects,  that  her  '^'security  and  her  power  may  be 
properly  proved^  before  she  is  ‘^'intrusted  with  her  valu- 
able cargo  of  human  lives.  He  cautiously  builds  a fire 
under  her  boiler:  he  watches  with  eager  interest  the 
rising  of  the  steam-gauge,  and  scrutinizes  every  part  of 
the  machinery,  as  it  gradually  comes  under  the  control 
of  the  tremendous  power,  which  he  is  '^’apprehensively 
applying. 

4.  With  what  interest  does  he  observe  the  first  stroke 
of  the  ponderous  j)iston ! and  when,  at  length,  the  fas- 
tenings of  the  boat  are  let  go,  and  the  motion  is  '^com- 
municated to  the  wheels,  and  the  mighty  mass  slowly 
moves  away  from  the  wharf,  how  deep  and  eager  an 
interest  does  he  feel  in  all  her  movements,  and  in  every 
indication  he  can  discover  of  her  future  success  I 

5.  The  engine,  however,  works  imperfectly,  as  every 
one  must  on  its  first  trial;  and  the  object  in  this  '‘’experi- 
ment is  not  to  gratify  idle  curiosity,  by  seeing  that  she' 
will  move,  but  to  discover  and  remedy  every  little  im- 
perfection, and  to  remove  every  obstacle  which  pre- 
vents more  entire  success.  For  this  purf)Ose,  you  will 
see  our  engineer  examining,  most  minutely  and  most 
attentively,  every  part  of  her  complicated  machinery. 
The  crowd  on  the  wharf  may  bo  simply  gazing  on  her 
majestic  progress  as  she  moves  off  from  the  shore,  but 
the  engineer  is  within,  looking  with  faithful  '‘’examina- 
tion into  all  the  minutiae  of  the  motion. 

G.  He  scrutinizes  the  action  of  every  lever  and  the 
friction  of  every  joint;  here,  he  oils  a bearing,  there,  ho 
tightens  a nut:  one  part  of  the  machinery  has  too  much 
play,  and  ho  confines  it;  another,  too  much  friction,  and 
ho  loosens  it;  now,  he  stops  the  engine,  now,  reverses 
her  motion,  and  again,  sends  the  boat  forward  in  h^- 


180 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


course.  He  discovers,  perhaps,  some  great  improve- 
ment of  which  she  is  ‘‘'susceptihle,  and  when  he  returns 
to  the  wharf  and  has  extinguished  her  fire,  he  orders 
from  the  machine-shop  the  necessary  alteration. 

7.  The  next  day  he  puts  his  boat  to  the  trial  again, 
and  she  glides  over  the  water  more  smoothly  and  swiftly 
than  before.  The  jar  which  he  had  noticed  is  gone,  and 
the  friction  reduced;  the  beams  play  more  smoothly, 
and  the  *^alteration  which  he  has  made  produces  a more 
eguable  motion  in  the  '^shaft,  or  gives  greater  effect  to 
the  stroke  of  the  paddles  upon  the  water. 

8.  When  at  length  her  motion  is  such  as  to  satisfy 
him  upon  the  smooth  surface  of  the  river,  he  turns  her 
course,  we  will  imagine,  toward  the  rapids,  to  see  how 
she  will  sustain  a greater  trial.  As  he  increases  her 
steam,  to  give  her  power  to  overcome  the  new  force  ^ 
with  which  she  has  to  contend,  he  watches,  with  eager 
interest,  her  boiler,  inspects  the  gauge  and  safety- 
valves,  and,  from  her  movements  under  the  increased 
pressure  of  her  steam,  he  receives  suggestions  for  fur- 
ther improvements,  or  for  '^'precautions  which  will  insure 
greater  safety. 

9.  These  he  executes,  and  thus  he  perhaps  goes  on 
for  many  days,  or  even  weeks,  trying  and  examining, 
for  the  purpose  of  improvement,  every  working  of  that 
mighty  power,  to  which  he  knows  hundreds  of  lives  are 
soon  to  be  intrusted.  This  now  is  probation ; trial  for 
the  sake  of  improvement.  And  what  are  its  '^results? 
Why,  after  this  course  has  been  thoroughly  and  faith 
fully  pursued,  this  floating  palace  receives  upon  her 
broad  deck,  and  in  her  carpeted  and  curtained  cabin, 
her  four  or  five  hundred  passengers,  who  pour  along  in 
one  long  procession  of  happy  groups,  over  the  bridge  of 
planks;  father  and  son,  mother  and  children,  young 
husband  and  wife,  all  with  '‘‘implicit  confidence  trusting 
themselves  and  their  dearest  interests  to  her  power. 

10.  See  her  as  she  sails  away  ! How  beautiful  and  yet 
how  powerful  are  all  her  motions ! That  beam  glides 
up  and  down  gently  and  smoothly  in  its  '‘’grooves,  and 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


181 


yet  gentle  as  it  seems,  hundreds  of  horses  could  not  hold 
it  still ; there  is  no  apparent  violence,  hut  every  move- 
ment is  with  irresistible  power.  How  graceful  is  her 
form  and  yet.  how  mighty  is  the  momentum  with  which 
she  presses  on  her  way  ! 

11.  Loaded  with  life,  and  herself  the  very  symbol  of 
life  and  power,  she  seems  something  '’'ethereal,  unreal, 
which,  ere  we  look  again,  will  have  vanished  away. 
And  though  she  has  within  her  bosom  a furnace  glowing 
with  furious  fires,  and  a reservoir  of  death,  the  elements 
of  most  dreadful  ruin  and  conflagration,  of  destruction 
the  most  complete,  and  agony  the  most  '’'unutterable ; 
and  though  her  strength  is  equal  to  the  united  energy 
of  two  thousand  men,  she  restrains  it  all. 

12.  She  was  '’'constructed  by  genius,  and  has  been  tried 
and  improved  by  fidelity  and  skill ; and  one  man  gov- 
erns and  controls  her,  stops  her  and  sets  her  in  motion, 
turns  her  this  way  and  that,  as  easily  and  certainly  as 
the  child  guides  the  gentle  lamb.  She  walks  over  the 
one  hundred  and  sixty  miles  of  her  route,  without  rest 
and  without  '’'fatigue ; and  the  passengers,  who  have 
slept  in  safety  in  their  berths,  with  destruction  by  water 
without,  and  by  fire  within,  defended  only  by  a plank 
from  the  one,  and  by  a sheet  of  copper  from  the  other, 
land,  at  the  appointed  time  in  safety. 

13.  My  reader,  you  have  within  you  susceptibilities 
and  powers,  of  which  you  have  little  present  conception ; 
energies,  which  are  hereafter  to  operate  in  producing 
fullness  of  enjoyment  or  horrors  of  suffering,  of  which 
you  now  can  form  scarcely  a conjecture.  You  are  now 
on  triaL  God  wishes  you  to  prepare  yourself  foT  safe 
and  happy  action.  He  wishes  you  to  look  within,  to  ex- 
amine the  complieated  movements  of  your  hearts,  to 
detect  what  is  wrong,  to  '’'modify  what  needs  change, 
and  to  '’'rectify  every  irregular  motion. 

14.  You  go  out  to  try  your  moral  powers  upon  the 
stream  of  active  life,  and  then  return  to  retirement,  to 
improve  what  is  right,  and  '’'remedy  what  is  wrong. 
Renewed  opportunities  of  moral  practice  are  given  you, 


182 


NEAY  FIFTH  READER. 


that  you  may  go  on  from  strength  to  strengtn,  until 
every  j^art  of  that  complicated  moral  machinery,  of 
which  the  human  heart  consists,  will  work  as  it  ought 
to  work,  and  is  prepared  to  ^accomplish  the  mighty  pur- 
poses for  which  your  powers  are  designed.  You  are  on 
trial j on  probation  now.  You  will  enter  upon  active  ser 
vice  in  another  world. 

Questions. — How  does  the  Bible  consideij  this  life  ? ^ AVhat  is  a state 
of  probation?  AVhat  is  meant  by  proving  a steamboat?  What  is  the 
use  of  doing  this  ? Is  there  any  resemblance  between  man  and  a 
steamboat  ? 


EXERCISE  XXIY. 

Thou  sJied^st  a sunshine  on  his  head.  The  brown  forests.  Hop*st 
thou  for  gifts  like  these  ? Or  ever  thou  liad^st  formed  the  ear^ii. 
I have  received  pmen/5. 


LESSON  LIV. 


1.  Vas^'-sal;  n,  a servant,  a sub- 
ject. 

1.  Scep^-ter;  n.  a kind  of  staff 

borne  by  kings  as  a sign  of 
royalty. 

2.  Throng;  n.  a crowd,  a great 

multitude. 

8.  Her^-ald-ed  ; v.  introduced  as 
if  by  a herald. 


8.  Rue  ; v.  to  regret  deeply. 

4.  Ran^-somed;  adj.  rescued  fr(?m 

death  or  captivity  by  paying 
an  equivalent. 

5.  Gor^-geous  ; adj.  showy,  splen- 

did. 

5.  Mar^-tyr  ; n.  one  who  suffers 
death  in  defense  of  what  he 
believes  to  be  truth. 


A DIRGE. 

Remark. — Observe  the  poetic  pauses  in  the  following  lines,  viz.: 
one  at  the  end,  and  one  near  the  middle  of  each  line. 

Articulate  distinctly.  Do  not  say  duss  for  dus^ ; guss  for  jus/ ; 
ole  for  old;  bole  for  bold ; russ  for  rus/ ; truss  for  trus/. 

1.  ^‘Earth  to  earth,  and  dust  to  dust!’' 

Here  the  evil  and  the  just. 

Here  the  youthful  and  the  old, 

Here  the  fearful  and  t.ho  bold, 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


Here  the  '^  matron  and  the  maid, 

In  one  silent  bed  are  laid  ; 

Here  the  vassal  and  the  king 
Side  by  side,  lie  withering : 

Here  the  sword  and  scepter  rust : 

“ Barth  to  earth,  and  dust  to  dust ! 

2 Age  on  age  shall  roll  along. 

O’er  this  palC  and  mighty  throng; 
Those  that  wept  them,  those  that  wce}. 
All  shall  with  these  sleepers  sleep : 
Brothers,  sisters  of  the  worm. 
Summer’s  sun  or  winter’s  storm. 

Song  of  peace  or  battle’s  roar. 

ISTe’er  shall  break  their  slumbers  more 
Death  shall  keep  his  '’'sullen  trust : 

“ Earth  to  earth,  and  dust  to  dust  I ” 

3.  But  a day  is  coming  fast. 

Earth,  thy  mightiest  and  thy  last ! 

It  shall  come  in  fear  and  wonder. 
Heralded  by  trump  and  thunder  : 

It  shall  come  in  strife  and  toil ; 

It  shall  come  in  blood  and  spoil ; 

It  shall  come  in  fempires’  groans, 
Burning  temples,  ’’'trampled  thrones : 
Then,  ’’’ambition,  rue  thy  lust ! 

“ Earth  to  earth,  and  dust  to  dust ! ” 

4 Then  shall  come  the  ’’'judgment  sign  ; 
In  the  east,  the  King  shall  shine ; 
Flashing  from  heaven’s  golden  gate, 
Thousands,  thousands  round  his  stale. 
Spirits  with  the  crown  and  j)l^nie ; 
Tremble,  then,  thou  solemn  tomb ; 
Heaven  shall  open  on  our  sight ; 

Earth  be  turned  to  living  light,” 
■’Kingdom  of  the  ransomed  just  I 
“Earth  to  earth,  and  dust  to  dust  I” 


184 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


5.  Then  thy  mount,  Jerusalem, 

.Shall  he  gorgeous  as  a gem : 

Then  shall  in  the  desert  rise 
Fruits  of  more  than  ‘^'Paradise, 

Earth  by  angel  feet  be  trod. 

One  great  garden  of  her  God ! 

Till  are  dried  the  martyr’s  tears 
Through  a thousand  '^'glorious  years: 
INow  in  hope  of  him  we  trust: 

Earth  to  earth,  and  dust  to  dust !” 


LESSON  LY.rr 


1 ; n,  an  imaginary 

spirit. 

1 Braes  ; n.  low  woods. 

4 Din;  n.  noise. 

4.  Ri^-ot-ing;  v,  romping. 

5.  Trav^-ers-ing  ; v.  wandering. 


6.  Su-per-nat^-u-ral  ; a more 
than  human. 

6.  Re-verb^-er-a-ting  ; v.  sound- 
ing. 

9.  E-jac^-u-la-ted  ; v.  exclaimed. 
15.  Bon-'-ny;  adj.  beautiful. 


LUCY  FORRESTER. 

1.  Lucy  was  only  six  years  old,  but  bold  as  a fairy  , 
she  had  gone  by  herself  a thousand  times  about  the 
braes,  and  often  upon  errands  to  houses  two  or  three 
miles  distant.  What  had  her  j)arents  to  fear  ? The  foot- 
paths were  all  firm,  and  led  to  no  places  of  danger,  nor 
are  infants  themselves  '^incautious  when  alone  in  their 
pastimes.  Lucy  went  singing  into  the  low  woods,  and 
singing  she  re-appeared  on  the  open  hillside.  With 
her  small  white  hand  on  the  rail,  she  glided  along  the 
wooden  bridge,  or,  tripped  from  stone  to  stone  across 
the  shallow  streamlet. 

2.  The  creature  would  be  away  for  hours,  and  no  fear 
be  felt  on  her  account  by  any  one  at  home  ; whether  she 
had  gone,  with  her  basket  under  her  arm,  to  borrow 
some  article  of  '^'household  use  from  a neighbor,  op 
merely  for  her  own  '^'solitary  delight,  had  wandered  off 


ECLECTIC  SERIES.  J85 

to  the  braes  to  play  among  the  flowers,  coming  back  la- 
den with  ■‘‘wreaths  and  garlands. 

3.  The  happy  child  had  been  invited*to  pass  a whole 
day,  from  morning  to  night,  at  Lady  side  (a  farm-house 
about  two  miles  off),  with  her  playmates,  the  Maynes; 
ind  she  left  home  about  an  hour  after  sunrise. 

4.  During  her  absence,  the  house  was  silent  but 
happy7  and,  the  evening  being  now  far  advanced,  Lucy 
was  expected  home  every  minute,  and  Michael,  Agnes, 
and  Isabel,  her  father,  mother,  and  aunt,  went  to  meet 
her  on  the  way.  They  walked  on  and  on,  wondering  a 
little,  but  in  no  degree  ‘‘'alarmed,  till  they  reached  Lady- 
side,  and  heard  the  cheerful  din  of  the  children  within, 
still  rioting  at  the  close  of  the  holiday.  Jacob  May  no 
came  to  the  door,  but,  on  their  kindly  asking  why  Lucy 
had  not  been  sent  home  before  daylight  was  over,  he 
looked  painfully  surprised,  and  said  that  she  had  not 
been  at  Ladyside. 

5.  Within  two  hours,  a hundred  people  were  ‘‘‘travers- 
ing  the  hills  in  all  directions,  even  to  a distance  which 
it  seemed  most  unlikely  that  poor  Lucy  could  have 
reached.  The  shepherds  and  their  dogs,  all  the  night 
through,  searched  every  ‘‘‘nook,  every  stony  and  rocky 
place,  every  piece  of  taller  heather,  every  ‘‘‘crevice  that 
could  conceal  any  thing  alive  or  dead,  but  no  Lucy  was 
there. 

6.  Her  mother,  who,  for  a'  while,  seemed  ‘‘‘inspired 
with  supernatural  strength,  had  joined  in  the  search, 
and,  with  a quaking  heart,  looked  into  every  brake,  or 
stopped  and  listened  to  every  shout  and  halloo  reverber- 
ating among  the  hills,  intent  to  seize  upon  some  tone  of 
■‘‘recognition  or  discovery.  But  the  moon  sank;  and 
then  the^stars,  whose  increased  brightness  had,  for  a 
short  time,  supplied  her  place,  all  faded  away  ; and  then 
came  the  gray  dawn  of  the  morning,  and  then  the  clear 
brightness  of  the  day,  and  still  Michael  and  Agnes  were<> 
childless. 

7.  “ She  has  sunk  into  S4)me  mossy  or  miry  place,” 
said  Michael  to  a man  near  him,  into  whose  face  he  could 

5th  R.-lfi  _ 


18G 


JSEW  FIFTH  READER. 


not  look,  “ a cruel,  cruel  death  to  one  like  her  I The 
earth  on  which  my  child  walked  has  closed  over  her, 
and  we  shall  neVer  see  her  more ! ” 

8.  At  last  a man  who  had  left  the  search,  and  gone 
in  a direction  toward  the  high-road,  came  running, 
with  something  in  his  arms  toward  the  j^lace  where 
Michael  and  others  were  standing  beside  Agnes,  who 
lay,  ^apparently  exhausted  almost  to  dying,  on  the 
sward.  He  approached  '^'hesitatingly ; and  Michael  saw 
that  he  carried  Lucy’s  bonnet,  clothes  and  plaid. 

9.  It  was  impossible  not  to  see  some  spots  of  blood 
upon  the  '^frill  that  the  child  had  worn  around  her  neck. 
“ Murdered  ! murdered  ! ” was  the  one  word,  whispered 
or  ejaculated  all  around ; but  Agnes  heard  it  not : for, 
worn  out  by  that  long  night  of  hope  and  despair,  she 
had  fallen  asleep,  and  was  perhaps  seeking  her  lost 
Lucy  in  her  dreams, 

10.  Isabel  took  the  clothes,  and  narrowly  '^inspecting 
them  with  eye  and  hand,  said,  with  a '^fervent  voice,  that 
was  heard  even  in  Michael’s  desjpair,  “ Ho,  Lucy  is  yet 
among  the  living.  There  are  no  marks  of  violence  on 
the  garments  of  the  innocent,  no  murderer’s  hand  has 
been  here.  These  blood-spots  have  been  put  there  to 
deceive.  Beside,  would  not  the  murderer  have  carrigd 
off  these  things?  For  what  else  would  he  have  mur- 
dered her  ? But,  oh  ! foolish  '^despair ! What  speak  1 
of?  For  wicked  as  the  world  is — ay!  desperately  wicked 
— there  is  not,  on  all  the  surface  of  the  wide  earth,  a 
hand  that  would  murder  our  child  I Is  it  not  plain  as 
the  sun  in  the  heaven,  that  Lucy  has  been  stolen  by 
some  wretched  gipsy  beggar.” 

— 11.  The  crowd  quietly  '^dispersed,  and  horse  and  foot 
began  to  scour  the  country.  Some  took  the  high-roads, 
others  all  the  by-paths,  and  many  the  trackless  hills. 
How  that  they  were  in  some  measure  '^'relieved  from  the 
horrible  belief  that  the  child  was  dead,  the  worst  other 
calamity  seemed  nothing,  for  hope  brought  her  back  to 
their  arms. 

12.  Agnes  had  been  able  to  walk  home  to  Bracken- 
Braes,  and  Michael  and  Isabel  sart  by  her  bedside.  Al! 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


187 


r 

l)er  strength  was  gone,  and  she  lay  at  the  mercy  of  the 
rustle  of  a leaf,  or  a shadow  across  the  window.  Thus 
hour  after  hour  passed,  till  it  was  again  twilight.  “ I 
hear  footsteps  coming  up  the  brae,”  said  Agnes,  who 
had  for  some  time  appeared  to  be  slumbering;  and  in  a 
few  moments,  the  voice  of  Jacob  Mayne  was  heard  at 
the  outer-door. 

13.  JTacob  wore  a solemn  expression  of  countenance; 
and  he  seemed,  from  his  looks,  to  bring  no  comfort. 
Michael  stood  up  between  him  and  his  wife,  and  looked 
into  his  heart.  Some  thing  there  seemed  to  be  in  his 
face  that  was  not  ^miserable.  ‘^If  he  has  heard  nothing 
of  my  child,”  thought  Michael,  “this  man  must  care 
little  for  his  own  fireside.”  “ Oh,  speak,  speak,”  said 
Agnes;  “yet  why  need  you  speak?  All  this  has  been 
but  a vain  belief,  and  Lucy  is  in  heaven.” 

14.  “ Some  thing  like  a *^trace  of  her  has  been  discov- 
ered ; a woman,  with  a child,  that  did  not  look  like  a 
child  of  hers.,  was  last  night  at  Clovenford,  and  left  it  at 
the  dawning.”  “ Do  you  hear  that,  my  beloved  Agnes?” 
said  Isabel;  “she  will  have  Hramped  away  with  Lucy 
up  into  Ettrick  or  Yarrow;  but  hundreds  of  eyes  will 
have  been  upon  her;  for  these  are  quiet,  but  not  solitary 
glens;  and  the  hunt  will  be  over  long  before  she  has 
crossed  down  upon  Hawick.  I knew  that  country  in 
my  young  days.  What  say  you,  Mr.  Mayne  ? There  is 
the  light  of  hope  in  your  face.”  “There  is  no  reason  to 
doubt,  ma’am,  that  it  was  Lucy.  Every  body  is  sure  of 
it.  If  it  was  my  own  Eachel,  I should  have  no  fear  as 
to  seeing  her  this  blessed  night.” 

15.  Jacob  Mayne  now  took  a chair,  and  sat  down, 
with  even  a smile  upon  his  countenance.  “ I may  tell 
you  now,  that  Watty  Oliver  knows  it  was  your  child,  for 
he  saw  her  Himping  along  after  the  gipsy  at  Galla- 
Brigg;  but  having  no  ^suspicion,  he  did  not  take  a 
second  look  at  her — ^but  one  look  is  ^sufficient — and  he 
swears  it  was  bonny  Lucy  Forrester.” 

" 16.  Aunt  Isabel,  by  this  time,  had  bread  and  cheese, 
and  a bottle  of  her  own  elder-flower  wine,  on  the  table. 


188 


NEAY  FIFTH  READER. 


“You  have  been  a long  and  hard  journey,  where  ever 
you  have  been,  Mr.  Mayne;  take  some  refreshment;” 
and  Michael  asked  a blessing. 

17.  Jacob  saw  that  he  might  now  venture  to  '^reveal 
the  whole  truth.  “JSTo,  no,  Mrs.  Irving,  I am  over 
happy  to  eat  or  to  drink.  You  are  all  prepared  for  the 
blessing  that  awaits  you.  Your  child  is  not  far  off;  and 
I myself,  for  it  is  I myself  that  found  her,  will  bring  her 
by  the  hand,  and  restore  her  to  her  parents.” 

18.  Agnes  had  raised  herself  up  in  her  bed  at  these 
words,  but  she  sank  gently  back  on  her  pillow ; aunt 
Isabel  was  rooted  to  her  chair ; and  Michael,  as  he  rose 
up,  felt  as  if  the  ground  w^ere  sinking  under  his  feet. 
There  was  a dead  silence  all  around  the  house  for  a 
short  space,  and  then  the  sound  of  many  voices,  which  - 
again  by  degrees  '^’subsided.  The  eyes  of  all  then 
looked,  and  jmt  feared  to  look  toward  the  door. 

19.  Jacob  May ne  was  not  so  good  as  his  word,  for  he 
did  not  bring  Lucy  by  the  hand  to  *^restore  her  to  her 
parents;  but  dressed  again  in  her  own  bonnet  and  gown, 
and  her  own  plaid,  in  rushed  their  own  child  by  herself, 
with  tears  and  sobs  of  joy,  and  her  father  laid  her  within 
her  mother’s  bosom. 

Question. — Relate  the  story  of  little  Lucy  Forrester,  and  the  man- 
ner in  which  she  was  found. 

What  are  the  nouns  in  the  last  paragraph  ? The  adjectives  ? The 
verbs  ? The  adverbs  ? Prepositions  ? Conjunctions  ? 


EXERCISE  XXV. 

Canst  thou  fill  his  sJcin  with  barbed  irons  f Thou  sliiiiiber^ d\st 
not  in  vain.  Thou  Icddst  thy  waves  at  rest  ArouncZ  him  fall 
dread  powers,  dominions,  hosts,  and  Wngly  thrones.  AVhen  Ajax 
strives  some  rocTds  vast  weight  to  throw.  He  was  distinguished  for 
his  conscientiousness.  His  lips  grow  restless  and  his  smile  is  curled 
into  scorn.  His  limhs  were  strengthened  by  exercise. 

The  Teacher  is  reminded  that  the  words  in  italics  in  the  Exercises 
in  Articulation  should  be  spelled  by  their  elements,  two  or  more  conso- 
nants- coming  together  being  uttered  as  one;  and  that  the  word  should 
then  be  distinctly  and  forcibly  pronounced. 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


LESSON  LVI.  r 


1.  XiNQB ; n.  a slight  degree  of 
color. 

1 Kab'-bi;  n.  a title  given  to 
learned  men  among  the  Jews. 

4.  Re-past^;  n.  a meal. 

4.  Or'-i-sons;  n.  prayers. 

4 Pon-tifM-cal  ; adj.  belonging 
to  the  high  priest. 

4.  Cym^-bal;  n.  an  instrument 
of  music. 

4.  Psal'-ter-y;  n.  an  instrument 
of  music. 

4.  Hal-le-lu'-jahs;  n.  [^vo.hal- 
le-lu-yahs)  praises  to  God. 


5.  In^-cense  ; n.  the  odor  of  spi- 
ces burnt  in  religious  worship. 

6.  Re-luct^-ant  ; adj.  unwilling. 

5.  Sap^-phire;  n.  a precious 
stone  of  a blue  color ; here  put 
for  the  color. 

6.  Lus^-ter  ; n.  splendor,  bright- 
ness. 

8.  Spous^'-al;  adj.  relating  to 
marriage. 

10.  CiiAS^-TENED ; adj.  (pro.  chas- 
n'd)  afflicted  for  correction. 

10.  Hom^'-age;  71.  reverential  wor- 
ship. 


A'  HEBREW  TALE. 

Remaek.— Be  careful  not  to  allow  the  voice-  to  grow  weaker  and 
weaker,  as  you  approach  the  end  of  each  sentence. 

Pronounce  correctly.  Do  not  say  source  for  scarce  ; frag-rani 
for  fra-grant;  o-ri'-soKS  for  or'-i-sons ; hal-le-lu-jahs,  pro.  hair 
le-lu-yahs ; beau-che-ons  for  beau-ie-ous  ; hal-lerd  for  hal-/(w-ed  ; 
(r-he-junce  foi  o-be-cZi-ence. 

1.  '•'TwiiiiGHT  was  deepening  with  a tinge  of  eve, 

As  toA^rd  his  home  in  Israel’s  +sho‘Ttered  vales 
A +stately  Eabbi  drew.  His  camels  spied 
Afar  the  palm^rees’  lofty  heads,  that  '•'decked 
The  dear,  do-^iiestic  ■••fountain,  and  in  speed 
Pressed  with  broad  foot,  the  smooth  and  doAvy  glade. 

2 The  holy  man  his  peaceful  threshold  passed 

With  hasting  step.  The  evening  meal  was  spread. 
And  she,  Avho  from  life’s  morn  his  heart  had  shared, 
Breathed  her  fond  Avelcome.  Bowing  o’er  the  board, 
The  blessing  of  his  father’s  God  he  sought ; 

Enler  of  <^rth  and  sea.  Then  raising  high 

The  ■•'sparltling  wine  cup,  “ call  my  sons,”  ho  bade,  ^ 

“ And  lot  mo  liloss  them  ore  their  hour  of  rest.”  / 


NEW  FIFTH  EEADER. 

3.  The  observant  mother  spake  with  gentle  voice 
bomewhat  of  soft  excuse,  that  they  were  wont’ 
lo  linger  long  amid  the  Proi)het’s  school, 

Learning  the  holy  law  their  father  loved. 

4 —His  sweet  repast  with  sweet  +discburse  was  blent 
W journeying  and  return.  » Would  thou  hadst  seen 
With  me,  the  golden  morning  bring  to  light 
Xon  mountain  summits,  whose  blue  waving  line 
Scarce  meets  thine  eye,  where  chirp  of  joyous  birds. 
A breath  of  fragrant  herbs  and  spicy  gales. 

And  sigh  of  waving  boughs,  stirred  in  the  soul 
Warm  orisons.  Yet  most  I wished  thee  near 
Amid  the  temple’s  pomp,  when  the  high  priest. 

Clad  in  his  robe  pontifical,  '*'in'^oked 

The  God  of  Abraham,  while  on  the  lute  and  harp 

Cymbal,  and  trump,  and  psalt’ry,  and  glad  breath 

Of  tuneful  Levite,  and  the  mighty  shout 

Of  all  our  people,  like  the  swelling  sea,' 

Loud  hallelujahs  burst. 

When  next  I seek 

Blest  Zion  s glorious  hill,  our  beauteous  boys 
l^fust  bear  me  company.  Their  early  prayers 
Will  rise  as  incense.  Thy  reluctant  love 
Ho  longer  must  withhold  them the  new  +tc>if' 

Will  give  them  sweeter  sleep,  and  touch  their  cheek 
With  brighter  crimson.  ’Mid  their  raven  curls 
My  hand  I ’ll  lay,  and  dedicate  them  there, 

Even  in  those  courts,  to  Israel’s  God ; 

Two  spotless  lambs,  well  pleasing  in  his  sight. 

But  yet,  methinks,  thou  ’rt  paler  grown,  my  love  ? 
And  the  pure  sapphire  of  thine  eyes  looks  dim. 

As  though  ’twere  washed  with  tears.” 

Paintly  she  smiled, 

“ One  doubt,  my  lord,  I fain  would  have  thee  solve. 
Gems  of  rich  luster  and  of  countless  cost 
Were  to  my  keeping  trusted.  How,  alas ! 

They  are  demanded.  Must  they  be  restored  ? 

Or  may  I not  a little  longer  gaze 
Upon  their  dazzling  +hues  ? 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


191 


7.  His  eyes  grew  stern, 

And  on  his  lip  there  lurked  a sudden  curl 

Of  indignation. Doth  my  wife  propose 

Such  doubt  ? as  if  a master  might  not  claim 
His  own  ag^in?”  “Hay,  Eabbi,  come,  behold 
These  '‘'priceless  jewels  ere  I yield  them  back.” 

8.  So  to  their  sj)ousal  chamber,  with  soft  hand 
Her  lord  she  led.  There,  on  a snow  white  couch 
Lay  his  two  sons,  pale^  pale^  and  motionless^ 

Like  faij  twin  lilies,  which  some  '^'gr^zing  kid 

In  twahl^nness  had  cropped.  “ My  sons  ! my  sons  ! 
Light  of  my  eyes  ! ” the  astonished  father  cried  ; 

“ My  teachers  in  the  law ! whose  '•'guileless  hearts 
And  prompt  obedience  warned  me  oft  to  be 
More  perfect  with  my  God  ! ” 

9.  To  earth  he  fell, 

Like  Lebanon’s  rent  cedar  ; while  his  breast 
Heaved  with  such  groans  as  when  the  laboring  soul 
Breaks  from  its  clay  companion’s  close  embrace. 
The  mourning  mother  turned  away  and  wept, 

Till  the  first  storm  of  '•'paferfonate  grief  was  still. 
Then,  pressing  to  his  ear  her  faded  lip,  • 

She  sighed  in  tone  of  tremulous  tenderness, 

“ Thou  didst  instruct  me,  Eabbi,  how  to  yield 
The  summoned  jewels.  See  ! the  Lord  doth  give, 
The  Lord  hath  taken  away.” 

10.  “ Yea !”  said  the  sire, 

“ And  blessed  be  his  name.  Even  for  thy  sake^ 

Thrice  blessed  be  Jehovah.”  Long  he  pressed 
On  those  cold,  beautiful  browns  his  '•'quivi^ring  lip, 
When  from  his  eye  the  burning  anguish  rolled ; 
Th^n  kneeling  low,  those  chastened  spirits  poured 
Their  mighty  homage  forth  to  God. 

Questions. — What  is  a Rabbi  ? Relate  this  story.  What  is  the  best 
Eupport  in  time  of  trouble  and  affliction? 


192 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


LESSON  LVII.^/ 


1.  Rep^-tiles  (pro.  rep^~tils)]  n. 
animals  that  creep,  as  worms, 
snakes,  &c. 

1.  Re-coil'';  V.  start  back,  shrink 

from. 

2.  Coiled;  v,  gathered  into  a 

circular  form. 

2.  Coy''-a;  n.  a kind  of  serpent. 


3.  In-fest^'-ed  ; v.  troubled,  an- 

noyed. 

4.  Ob-structs'';  v.  hinders,  stops. 

5.  Rank^'-le;  V.  to  rage,  to  become 

violent. 

5.  Spell;  n.  a charm. 

7.  Still;  n.  a vessel  used  iu  dis- 
tilling or  making  liquors. 


THE  VENOMOUS  WORM. 

Pronounce  correctly.  Do  not  say  rep4iles  for  rep-tiles  (pro. 
rep^-tils);  pi-son  for  poi-son;  un-for-ier-nit  for  un-fort-^-nate; 
an4~muls  for  an-i-mals ; dis-iruc-iion  for  de-struc-tion ; symp-tims 
for  symp-toms ; in-san-er-ty  for  in-san-i-ty. 

Outvenoms  all  the  worms  of  Nile.'^ 

1.  Who  has  not  heard  of  the  rattlesnake  or  ^copper 
head?  An  unexpected  sight  of  either  of  these  reptiles 
will  make  even  the  lords  of  creation  recoil;  but  there  is 
a species  of  worm,  found  in  various  parts  of  this  State, 
which  conveys  a poison  of  a nature  so  deadly,  that,  com- 
pared with  it,  even  the  +venom  of  the  rattlesnake  is 
harmless.  To  guard  our  readers  against  this  foe  of 
human  kind,  is  the  object  of  this  lesson. 

2.  This  worm  varies  much  in  size.  It  is  frequently  an 
inch  in  ^diameter,  but,  as  it  is  rarely  seen,  except  when 
coiled,  its  length  can  hardly  be  ^conjectured.  It  is  of  a 
dull  lead  color,  and  generally  lives  near  a spring  or 
small  stream  of  water,  and  bites  the  unfortunate  people, 
who  are  in  the  hahit  of  going  there  to  drink.  The  brute 
creation  it  never  molests.  They  avoid  it  with  the  same 
instinct,  that  teaches  the  animals  of  Peru  to  shun  the 
deadly  coya. 

3.  Several  of  these  reptiles  have  long  infested  our  set- 
tlements, to  the  ^misery  and  destruction  of  many  of  our 
fellow-citizens.  I have,  therefore,  had  frequent  opportu- 
nities of  being  the  melancholy  spectator  of  the  effects 


ECLECTIC  SERIES.  193 

produced  by  the  subtile  poison  wliicli  this  worm  ■’in- 
fuses. 

4.  The  ■’■symptoms  of  its  bile  are  terrible.  The  eyes 
of  the  patient  become  red  and  fiery,  his  tongue  swells  to 
an  immoderate  size,  and  obstructs  his  '’'utterance;  and 
■’’delirium  of  the  most  horrid  character,  quickly  follows. 
Sometimes,  in  his  madness,  he  attempts  the  destruction 
of  his  nearest  friends. 

5.  If  the  sufferer  has  a family,  his  weeping  wife  and 
helpless  infants  are  not  unfrequently  the  objects  of  his 
frantic  fury.  In  a word,  he  ’’'exhibits,  to  the  life,  all  the 
detestable  passions  that  rankle  in  the  bosom  of  a savage; 
and  such  is  the  spell  in  which  his  senses  are  locked,  that, 
no  sooner  has  the  '’'unhappy  patient  recovered  from  the 
■’■paroxysm  of  insanity,  occasioned  b}^  the  bite,  than  he 
seeks  out  the  destroyer^  for  the  sole  purpose  of  being 
bitten  again, 

^ 6.  I have  seen  a good  old  father,  his  locks  as  white  as 
snow,  his  step  slow  and  trembling,  beg  in  vain  of  his 
only  son  to  quit  the  ’’’lurking  place  of  the  worm.  My 
heart  bled  when  he  turned  away;  for  I knew  the  fond 
■hope,  that  his  son  would  be  the  staff  of  his  ’’’declining 
years,”  had  supported  him  through  many  a sorrow. 

7.  Youths  of  America,  would  you  know  the  name  of 
this  reptile?  It  is  called  the  Worm  of  the  Still. 

Questions. — What  is  manufactured  at  the  ‘‘still”  here  spoken  of? 
Why  is  intemperance  worse  than  the  bite  of  the  most  venomous 
serpent?  What  is  the  coy  a?  What  part  of  a still  is  called  the 
“worm?”  Why  is  it  so  called? 

In  the  last  paragraph  parse  “youths.”  See  Analytical  Grammar, 
Rule  V. 


EXERCISE  XXVI. 

They  grappl’d  and  fell.  The  grizzly  bear  is  ferocious.  They 
p'umbl’d  at  their  crippled  condition.  Each  crevice  and  cranny  -was 
filled  with  frost.  Alt^r^  and  shrines  incredibly  increase,  llerds- 
men  protect  herds  in  the  forests.  Scenes  of  pleasure  soon  pall  upon 
the  senses.  The  trees  fell  thundering^  and  crackling^  and  crashing 
The  Franks  fed  /rawtically. 


R.--17 


194 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


LESSON 


I.  A'SLOpi/;  adv.  obliquely,  in  a 
slanting  manner. 

% Pau^-peu;  n,  a poor  person,  one 
supported  by  the  public,  [ing. 
2 Pno-MUL^-GA-TiNG ; V.  publish- 

3.  Mu-nic-i-pal^-i-ty  ; w.  a divis- 

ion of  country  or  of  a city. 

4.  Gob^-let  ; n.  a kind  of  drinking 

vessel. 

4.  CoGN^-iAC ; n.  (pro.  hone^-yah) 
the  best  kind  of  brandy. 


LVIlI.i 


4.  Hol^-lands;  n.  a kind  of  gin 
4.  Ja-mai^-ca;  n.  a kind  of  rum. 
6.  Po-TA^-TiONs;  n.  draughts. 

6.  Ku^-bi-cund;  adj.  inclined  to 
redness. 

10.  Tit-il-l A^-TiON ; n,  the  state 
of  being  tickled. 

14.  Mo-nop^-o-lize;  v.  to  obtain 
the  whole. 

14.  Con-sum-ma^-tion;  n.  comple- 
tion, perfection  of  a work. 


THE  TOWN  PUMP. 

Remark. — It  will  be  a good  exercise  for  the  pupil  to  stand  at  a 
distance  from  the  teacher,  and  then  try  to  read  so  loud  and  distinctly 
that  the  teacher  may  hear  with  perfect  ease  each  syllable  that 
pronounced. 

Pronounce  correctly.  Do  not  sa.y  troth  for  trough  (pro.  trauf); 
per-pe4eiv~iy  for  per-pe-tw-i-ty ; pat4un  for  pat-tern;  of-fi-sm 
for  of-fi-cers;  for  lan-tern ; for  thiVs-ty, 

{Scene. — The  corner  of  two  principal  streets. — The  Town  Pump 
talking  through  its  nose.) 

1.  Noon,  by  the  north  clock^!  Noon,  by  the  east^  ! 
High  noon,  too,  by  those  hot  sunbeams  which  falP, 
scarcely  aslope^,  upon  my  head,  and  almost  make  the 
Water  bubble  and  smoke  in  the  trough  under  my  nose^. 
Truly^,  we  public  characters  have  a tough  time^  of  it! 
And  among  all  the  town  officers,  chosen  at  the  yearlj^ 
meeting,  where  is  he  that  sustains,  for  a single  year,  the 
burden  of  such  '^manifold  duties  as  are  imposed,  ir 
^perpetuity,  upon  the  Town  Pump. 

2.  The  title  of  town  treasurer  is  rightfully  mine,  as 
guardian  of  the  best  treasure  the  town  has.  The  '*'over- 
seers  of  the  poor  ought  to  make  me  their  chairman,  sinc^ 
I provide  '^bountifully  for  the  pauper,  without  expense  tc 
him  that  paj^s  taxes.  I am  at  the  head  of  the  fire  depart 
nient,  and  one  of  the  physicians  of  the  board  of  health 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


195 


Asa  keeper  of  the  peace,  all  water-drinkers  confess  me 
equal  to  the  constable.  I perform  some  of  the  duties  of 
the  town  clerk,  by  promulgating  public  notices,  when 
they  are  pasted  on  my  front. 

3.  To  speak  within  bounds,  I am  chief  person  of  the 
municipality,  and  f exhibit,  moreover,  an  '^'admirable 
pattern  to  my  brother  officers,  by  the  cool,  steady, 
upright,  downright,  and  '^'impartial  "^discharge  of  my 
business,  and  the  constancy  with  which  I stand  to  my 
post.  Summer  or  winter,  nobody  seeks  me  in  vain ; for 
all  day  long  I am  seen  at  the  busiest  corner,  just  above 
the  market,  stretching  out  my  arms  to  rich  and  poor 
alike;  and  at  night  I hold  a lantern  over  my  head,  to 
show  where  I am,  and  to  keep  2)eoj)le  out  of  the  gutters. 

4.  At  this  sultry  noontide,  I am  cupbearer  to  the 
parched  populace,  for  whose  benefit  an  iron  goblet  is 
chained  to  my  waist.  Like  a dram-seller  on  the  public 
square,  on  a Lnuster  day,  I cry  aloud  to  all  and  sundry, 
in  my  plainest  accents,  and  at  the  very  tiptop  of  my 
voice.  Here  it  is^,  gentlemen^!  Here  is  the  good  liq- 
uor^! "Walk  up^,  walk  up^,  gentlemen^,  walk  up^,  walk 
u}^^!  Here  is  the  superior  stuffs ! Here  is  the  unadul- 
terated ale  of  father  Adam^!  better  than  Cogniac^,  Hol- 
lands^, Jamaica^,  strong  beer^,  or  wfine  of  any^  price  ; 
here  it  is,  by  the  hogshead,  or  the  single  glass,  and  not 
a cent  to  pay  ! Walk  up,  gentlemen,  walk  up,  and  help 
yourselves ! 

5.  It  were  a pity,  if  all  this  outcry  should  draw  no 
customers.  Here  they  come.  A hot  day,  gentlemen. 
+Quaff  and  away  again,  so  as  to  keej)  yourselves  in  a 
nice,  cool  sweat.  You,  m}^  friend,  will  need  another 
cupful  to  wash  the  dust  out  of  your  throat,  if  it  be  as 
thick  there  as  it  is  on  your  cowhide  shoes.  I see  that 
you  have  trudged  half  a score  of  miles  to-day,  and,  like 
a wise  man,  have  passed  by  the  taverns,  and  stopped  at 
the  running  brooks  and  wellcurbs.  Otherwise,  betv/ixt 
heat  without  and  fire  within,  you  would  have  been 
burnt  to  a cinder,  or  melted  down  to  nothing  at  all,  in 
the  fashion  of  a ^jelUffish. 


196 


NFAV  FIFTH  READER. 


G.  Drink,  and  make  room  for  that  other  fellow,  who 
seeks  my  aid  to  quench  the  fiery  fever  of  last  night’s 
potations,  which  he  drained  from  no  cup  of  mine.  Wel- 
come, most  rubicund  sir ! You  and  I have  been  stran- 
gers hitherto;  nor,  to  confess  the  truth,  will  my  nose  be 
anxious  for  a closer  '^'intimacy,  till  the  fumes  of  your 
breath  be  a little  less  ‘‘'potent. 

7.  Mercy  on  you,  man!  ,The  water  absolutely  hisses 
down  your  red-hot  *^gullet,  and  is  converted  quite  into 
steam  in  the  ‘‘‘miniature  bTopliet,  which  you  mistake  for 
a stomach.  Fill  again,  and  tell  me,  on  the  word  of  an 
honest  toper,  did  you  ever,  in  cellar,  tavern,  or  any 
other  kind  of  dramshop,  spend  the  price  of  your  chil- 
dren’s food  for  a swig  half  so  delicious?  I7ow,  for  the 
first  time  these  ten  years,  you  know  the  flavor  of  cold 
water.  Good-by ; and  whenever  you  are  thirsty,  recol- 
lect that  I keep  a constant  supply,  at  the  old  stand. 

8.  Who  next?  Oh,  my  little  friend,  you  are  just  let 
loose  from  school,  and  come  hither  to  scrub  your  bloom- 
ing face,  and  drown  the  memory  of  certain  taps  of  the 
ferule,  and  other  school -boy  troubles,  in  a ‘‘‘draught  from 
the  Town  Pump.  Take  it,  pure  as  the  current  of  your 
young  life;  take  it,  and  may  your  heart  and  tongue 
never  be  scorched  with  a fiercer  thirst  than  now. 

9.  There,  my  dear  child,  put  down  the  cup,  and  yield 
your  place  to  this  elderly  gentleman,  who  treads  so  ten- 
derly over  the  paving-stones,  that  I suspect  he  is  afraid 
of  breaking  them.  What!  he  limps  by,  without  so 
much  as  thanking  me,  as  if  my  ‘‘‘hospitable  offers  were 
meant  only  for  people  who  have  no  wine-cellars. 

10.  Well,  well,  sir,  no  harm  done,  I hope!  Go,  draw 
the  cork,  tip  the  ‘‘‘decanter ; but  when  your  great  toe 
shall  set  you  a roaring,  it  will  be  no  affair  of  mine.  Jf 
gen U emeu  love  the  pleasant  titillation  of  the  gout,  it  is 
all  one  to  the  Town  Pump.  This  thirsty  dog,  with  his 
red  tongue  ‘‘‘lolling  out,  does  not  scorn  my  ‘‘‘hospitality, 
blit  stands  on  his  hind  legs,  and  laps  eagerly  out  of  the 
trough.  See,  how  lightly  he  ‘‘‘capers  away  again!  .Tow- 
le r.  (lid  your  worship  ever  have  the  gout? 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


19/ 


11.  Your  pardon^,  good  people^!  I must  interrupt 
my  stream  of  teloquence,  and  spout  forth  a stream  of 
water,  to  '‘■replenish  the  trough  for  this  teamster  and  his 
two  yoke  of  oxen,  who  have  come  all  +])e  way  from 
Staunton,  or  somewhere  along  that  way  ISTo  part  of 
my  business  gives  me  more  pleasure  than  the  watering 
of  cattle.  Look^!  how  rapidly  they  lower  the  water* 
mark  on  the  sides  of  the  trough,  till  their  '‘'capacious 
stomachs  are  moistened  with  a gallon  or  two  apiece,  and 
they  can  afPord  time  to  breathe,  with  sighs  of  calm 
enjoyment.  Now  they  roll  their  quiet  eyes  around  the 
brim  of  their  monstrous  drinking  vessel.  An  ox  is  your 
true  toper. 

12.  I hold  myself  the  grand  '‘'reformer  of  the  age. 
From  my  spout,  and  such  spouts  as  mine,  must  flow  the 
stream  that  sliail  cleanse  our  earth  of  a vast  portion  of 
its  crime  and  anguish,  which  has  gushed  from  the  fieiy 
fountains  of  the  still.  In  this  mighty  '‘'enterprise,  the 
cow  shall  be  my  great  confederate.  Milk  and  water ! 

13.  Ahem  ! Dry  work,  this  ‘‘'speechifying,  especially 
to  all  unpracticed  orators.  I never  conceived,  till  now, 
what  toil  the  temperance  lecturers  undergo  for  my  sake. 
Do,  some  kind  Christian,  pump  a stroke  or  two,  just  to 
wet  my  whistle.  Thank  y^ou,  sir.  But  to  proeeed. 

14.  The  Town  Pump  and  the  Cow!  Such  is  the  glori- 
ous partnership,  that  shall  finally  monopolize  the  whole 
business  of  quenching  thirst.  Blessed  consummation  I 
Then,  Poverty  shall  pass  away  from  the  land,  finding  no 
hovel  so  wretched,  where  her  squallid  form  may  shelter 
itself  Then,  Disease,  for  lack  of  other  victims,  shall 
gnaw  his  own  heart  and  die.  Then,  Sin,  if  she  do  not 
die,  shall  lose  half  her  strength. 

15.  Then,  there  will  be  no  war  of  households.  The 
husband  and  the  wife,  drinking  deep  of  peaceful  joy,  a 
calm  bliss  of  temperate  affections,  shall  pass  hand  in 
hand  through  life,  and  lie  down,  not  reluctantly,  at 
its  protracted  close.  To  them,  the  past  will  be  no  tur- 
moil of  mad  dreams,  nor  the  future  an  eternity  of  such 
moments  as  follow  the  delirium  of  the  drunkard.  Their 


198 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


dead  faces  shall  express  what  their  spirits  were,  and  are 
to  he,  by  a lingering  smile  of  memory  and  hope. 

16.  Drink,  then,  and  be  refreshed!  The  water  is  as 
pure  and  cold  as  when  it  slaked  the  thirst  of  the  red 
hunter,  and  flowed  beneath  the  aged  bough,  though  now 
this  gem  of  the  wilderness  is  treasured  under  these  hoi 
stones,  where  no  shadow  falls,  but  from  the  brick  build 
ings.  But,  still  is  this  '‘'fountain  the  source  of  health, 
peace,  and  happiness,  a^d  I behold  with  certainty  and 
joy,  the  approach  of  the  period,  when  the  virtues  of 
cold  water,  too  little  valued  since  our  father’s  days,  will 
be  fully  '‘'appreciated  and  '‘'recognized  by  all. 

Questions. — Describe  the  various  characters  who  are  supposed  to 
approach  the  pump  for  a drink,  and  the  pump’s  remarks  to  them. 


LESSON  LIX.X/ 


Ex-act^;  v.  to  compel  to  pay. 

For^-feit;  n.  that  to  which  the 
right  is  lost  by  breach  of  con- 
tract. 

(vAR^-ri-on;  adj.  putrid. 

Duc^-at  ; n,  a piece  of  money  worth 
from  one  to  two  dollars. 

Hu^-mor;  n.  disposition,  fancy. 

Baned  ; V.  poisoned. 

Gap^-ing;  adj.  open  mouthed. 

Strain^-ed  ; V.  forced. 

Ex-po-si-'-tion  ; n.  explanation. 


Nom^-i-na-ted;  v.  named. 

Pen^-al-ty;  n.  the  suffering  or 
loss  to  which  one  is  subjected 
by  not  fulfilling  certain  con- 
ditions. 

CoN^-Fis-cATE ; adj.  taken  away 
. and  devoted  to  the  public  use. 

Al^-ien,  (pro.  aW-yen) ; n.  one 
who  is  not  entitled  to  the 
privilege  of  a citizen. 

Cof^-fer;  n.  treasury. 

Ten^-or;  n.  meaning. 


SHYLOCK,  OR  THE  POUND  OF  FLESH. 

Remark. — Let  the  pupil  stand  at  a distance  from  the  teacher,  and 
try  to  read  so  loud  and  distinctly,  that  the  teacher  may  hear  each 
syllable. 

Articulate  distinctly.  Do  not  say  perdlt-y  for  pen-al-ty, 
{{uaViy  for  qual-i-ty ; jper-jWy  for  per-j?^-ry ; law-f^ly  for  law-fwZ  ly ; 
€x-p^si4ion  for  ex-po-si-tion ; prin-c^p^l  for  prin-cz-pal ; in- direct 
for  in'dz-rect. 


Judge.  What  1 is  Antonio  here? 
Antonio.  Eeady,  so  please  your  grace. 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


199 


Ju.  1 tim  sorry  for  tliee;  thou  art  come  to  answer 
A stony  '^'adversary,  an  inhuman  wretch, 
■^'Incapable  of  pity. 

Ani  I am  armed  to  suffer.  . 

{Enter  Shylock.)  p 
^h.  Dost  thou  now  exact  the  penalty, 

Which  is  a pound  of  this  poor  merchant’s  flesh? 

^ Shy  By  our  holy  Sabbath,  I have  sworn, 

To  have  the  due  and  forfeit  of  my  bond. 

/ Ju.  This  is  no  ansAver,  thou  unfeeling  man. 

To  excuse  the  '^'current  of  thy  cruelty, 
i Shy  I am  not  bound  to  please  thee  with  my  answer. 
You’ll  ask  me  why  I rather  choose  to  have 
A weight  of  carrion  flesh,  than  to  receive 
Three  thousand  ducats.  I ’ll  not  answer  that: 
But  say  it  is  my  humor.  Is  it  answered  ? 

What  if  my  house  be  troubled  with  a rat. 

And  I be  pleased  to  give  ten  thousand  ducats 
To  have  it  baned?  What,  are  you  answered  yel? 
Some  men  there  are,  love  not  a gaping  pig; 

Some,  that  are  mad,  if  they  behold  a cat; 

As  there  is  no  firm  reason  to  be  '‘'rendered. 

Why  one  can  not  abide  a gaping  pig; 

Another,  a harmless,  '^necessary  cat; 

So  can  I give  no  reason,  and  I will  not. 

More  than  a lodged  hate,  and  a certain  loathing 
I bear  Antonio,  that  I follow  thus 
A losing  suit  against  him. 

Ju.  Do  all  men  kill  the  things  they  do  not  love? 

Shy.  Hates  any  man  the  thing  he  would  not  kill? 

: t Ant.  For  thy  three  thousand  ducats,  here  are  six. 

Shy  If  every  ducat  in  six  thousand  ducats 

Were  in  six  parts,  and  every  part  a ducat, 

I would  not  draw  them;  I would  have  my  bond. 
Ju.  How  shalt  thou  hope  for  mercy,  '^rendering  none? 
Shy.  The  pound  of  flesh  which  I demand  of  him, 

Is  dearly  bought;  is  mine;  and  I will  have  it: 

If  you  deny  me,  fy  upon  3" our  law ! 


200 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


1 stand  for  ^judgment;  answer;  shall  I have  it? 

^ . Ju.  Antonio,  do  you  confess  the  bond? 

I ; A7it.  I do. 

f ^^Ju.  Then  must  the  Jew  be  merciful. 

Shy,  On  what  ‘'compulsion  7nust  I?  tell  me  that. 

Ju.  The  quality  of  mercy  is  not  '‘'strained ; 

It  droppeth  as  the  gentle  rain  from  .heaven 
Upon  the  place  beneath;  it  is  twice  blessed ; 

It  blesseth  him  that  gives,  and  him  that  takes. 
Shy.  My  deeds  upon  my  head ! I '‘'crave  the  law. 

The  penalty  and  forfeit  of  my  bond. 

Ju.  Is  he  not  able  to  discharge  the  money  ? 

Ant.  Yes,  here  I tender  it  to  him  in  the  court ; 

Yea,  twice  and  thrice  the  sum. 

Shy.  I ’ll  have  my  bond,  I will  not  take  thy  oder. 

• Ju.  There  is  no  power  in  Venice 

Can  alter  a '‘'decree  '‘'established. 

£ Oh  wise,  wise  Judge,  how  do  I honor  thee  ! 

Ju.  I pray  you  let  me  look  u]Don  the  bond. 

{Gives  it  to  the  Judged 

Shy.  Here ’t  is,  most  '‘'reverend  doctor,*  here  it  is. 

Ju.  Shylock,  there’s  thrice  thy  money  otfered  thee. 

Shy.  An  oath,  an  oath,  I have  in  Heaven : 

Shall  I lay  perjury  upon  my  soul? 

No,  not  for  Venice. 

Ju.  Why,  this  bond  is  forfeit : 

And  lawfully  by  this  the  Jew  may  claim 
A pound  of  flesh,  to  be  by  him  cut  olf 
Nearest  the  merchant’s  heart ; be  merciful ; 

Take  thrice  the  money  ; bid  me  tear  the  bond. 
Shy.  When  it  is  paid  according  to  the  tenor. 

You  know  the  law,  your  '‘'exposition 
Hath  been  most  sound. 

There  is  no  power  in  the  tongue  of  man 
To  alter  me : I stand  here  on  my  bond. 


^ This  word  here  means  a learned  man. 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


201 


\ jAnt. 
f Ju. 
^^Shy. 

. Ju, 
Shy. 


Ju, 


Ju. 


■ A Ju, 


u^Shy. 

Ju, 

* ^ut, 
<Ju, 


i^phy, 

. ^ Ju, 


:>(jShy. 

f Ju, 

' i 


Most  heartily  do  I beseech  the  court 
To  give  the  judgment. 

Why,  then,  thus  it  is. 

You  must  prepare  p^our  bosom^for  his  k^^ife. 

Oh  noble  Judge  ! ' ••'iCr 

For  the  intent  and  purpose  of  the  law 
Hath  full  relation  to  the  penalty. 

Which  here  appeareth  due  unto  the  bond. 

’T  is  very  true : Oh  wise  and  upright  Judge  ! 
Therefore,  lay  bare  your  bosom.  (To  Antonio.) 
Ay,  his  breast : 

So  says  the  bond ; does  it  not,  noble  Judge  ? 
Nearest  his  heart,  those  are  the  very  words. 

It  is  so.  Are  there  balance  here,  to  weigh 
The  flesh  ? 

I have  them  ready. 

Have  by  some  surgeon,  Shylock,  on  your  charge. 

To  stop  his  wounds,  lest  he  do  bleed  to  death. 

Is  it  so  nominated  in  the  bond  ? 

It  is  not  so  expressed;  but  what  of  that? 

’T  were  good  you  do  so  much  in  charity. 

I can  not  find  it ; ’t  is  not  in  the  bond. 

Come,  merchant,  have  you  any  thing  to  say  ? 

But  little  ; I am  armed  and  well  prepared. 

Shylock  ! A pound  of  that  same  merchant’s  flesh  is 
thine  ! 

The  court  awards  it,  and  the  law  doth  give  it. 

Most  rightful  Judge ! 

And  you  must  cut  the  flesh  from  off  his  breast ; 

The  law  allows  it,  and  the  court  awards  it. 

Most  learned  Judge  I A sentence : come,  prepare. 

Tarry  a little  ; there  is  something  else. 

This  bond  doth  give  thee  here  no  jot  of  blood ; 

The  words  expressly  are,  a pound  of  flesh : 

But,  in  the  cutting  it,  if  thou  dost  shed 

One  drop  of  Christian  blood,  thy  lands  and  goods 


202 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


Are,  by  the  law  of  Yenice,  confiscate 
Unto  the  State  of  Yenice. 

Shy,  Is  that  the  law  ? 

lu.  Thyself  shalt  see  the  act ; 

For,  as  thou  urgest  justice,  be  '^'assured 

Thou  shalt  have  justice,  more  than  thou  desirest. 

Shy.  1 take  his  offer,  then  ] pay  the  bond  thrico. 

And  let  the  Christian  go. 

Ju.  The  Jew  shall  have  all  justice ; soft ! no  haste  ! 

He  shall  have  nothing  but  the  penalty. 

Therefore  prepare  thee  to  cut  off  the  flesh. 

Shed  thou  not  blood ; nor  cut  thou  less  nor  more. 
Than  just  one  pound ; be  it  but  so  much 
As  makes  it  light  or  heavy,  in  the  substance. 

Or  the  division  of  the  twentieth  part 

Of  one  poor  "^scruple ; nay,  if  the  scale  do  turn 

But  in  the  '^'estimation  of  a hair. 

Thou  diest,  and  all  thy  goods  are  confiscate. 

Why  doth  the  Jew  pause?  take  thy  '♦'forfeiture. 

, Shy.  Give  me  my  '♦'principal,  and  let  me  go. 

Ju.  Thou  hast  refused  it  in  the  open  court ; 

Thou  shalt  have  merely  justice,  and  the  bona. 

Shy.  Shall  I not  barely  have  my  '♦'principal  ? 

Ju.  Thou  shalt  have  nothing  but  the  forfeiture. 

To  be  so  taken  at  thy  peril,  Jew. 

Shy.  Why,  then,  the  devil  give  him  good  of  it! 

I’ll  stay  no  longer  question. 

Ju.  Tarry,  Jew: 

The  law  hath  yet  another  hold  on  you. 

It  is  enacted  in  the  laws  of  Yenice, 

If  it  be  proved  against  an  alien. 

That  by  direct  or  indirect  '♦'attempts. 

He  seeks  the  life  of  any  citizen. 

The  party  ’gainst  the  which  he  doth  "^contrive, 
Shall  seize  one  half  his  goods  ; and  the  other  naif 
Comes  to  the  privy  coffer  of  the  State, 

And  the  offender’s  life  lies  in  the  mercy 
Of  the  court  only. 


I!:0LECT1C  SEKIEIS. 


203 


C Take'iny  life,  then,  and  all,  and  pardon  not  that. 

Yon  take  my  house,  when  you  do  take  the  prop 
That  doth  sustain  my  house  ; you  take  my  life. 
When  you  do  take  the  means  by  which  I live. 

, ^ Ju,  The  court  in  mercy  spares  thy  life, 

Eut  the  forfeiture  of  thy  estate. 

Comes  not  within  our  power  to  '^remedy; 

The  law  is  strict  in  its  demands  of  justice. 

Are  you  +contented,  Jew?  What  dost  thou  say? 
Shy,  I pray  you,  give  me  leave  to  go  from  hence ; 

I am  not  well ; Oh  give  me  leave  to  go 
Where  I may  die  in  peace : 

Since  what  I hold  dearer  than  my  life. 

Is  taken  from  me. 

^ Ju,  The  court  has  mercy  on  your  life ; 

Go,  repent,  and  live. 

And  with  a softer  heart,  remember  mercy  too. 

Questions. — Why  did  Shylock  choose  tiie  pound  of  flesh  rather  than 
the  payment  of  his  debt?  What  does  he  mean  by  saying  “ray  deeds 
upon  my  head  ?”  In  whose  favor  does  the  judge  decide  ? How  does 
he  eventually  relieve  Antonio  from  his  danger?  How  is  Shylock 
punished  ? Was  his  punishment  just  ? Why  ? 

In  the  last  three  lines,  which  are  the  verbs  ? Which  of  them  is  in 
the  indicative  mode  ? Which  are  in  the  imperative  mode  ? What 
does  the  word  mean  ? Why  is  this  mode  so  called?  What 

does  the  word  imperative  mean?  See  Pinneo’s  Analytical  Grammar, 
page  68,  Art.  163. 


EXERCISE  XXVII. 

When  similar  sounds  come  at  the  end  of  one  word,  and  at  the  be- 
ginning of  the  next,  they  must  not  be  blended. 

He  sink5  sorrowing  to  the  tomb.  Man  loves  society.  Time  flies 
swiftly.  The  birds  sing.  Man  never  dies.  The  hear^  ifurns  awfiy. 
The  lip  pants.  The  di/n  mournful  ligh^  ^ries  vainly  to  enter.  The 
quicA*  creaA;  comes  grating.  Gwq  vantage  ground. 


204 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


LESSON  LX.  ■ 


1.  1m-per-cept^-i-ble;  adj.  not  to 
be  perceived. 

1 . In-cip^-i-ent  ; adj.  commencing, 

beginning. 

2.  Dex-ter^-i-ty  ; n.  expertness, 

skill. 

3.  Pro-pen^-si-ties  ; n.  bent  of 

mind,  inclination. 

4.  Fas-cin-a^-tion;  n.  a powerful 

influence  on  the  aflections. 

4.  StiiP-U'LUS  ; n.  something  which 
excites. 

7.  Can^-ons  ; n.  rules. 

8.  Cal^-lous;  adj.  insensible,  un- 

feeling. 


9.  Ban^-died  ; v.  tossed  about. 

10.  Bac-cha-na^-lian  ; adj.  revel 
ing  in  intemperance. 

11.  Phys^-ic-al;  adj.  material,  ex 
ternal. 

12.  BP-a-lect;  n.  a particulai 
form  of  speech. 

12.  Re-cept^-a-cles  ; n.  places 
where  any  thing  is  received. 

13.  Glad '-I-A-TOR ; n.  a prize- 
fighter. 

13.  A-re^-na  ; n.  an  open  space. 

14.  Ru^-mI'NA-ting;  v.  meditating. 

15.  Ret-ri-bu''-tion  ; n.  recom- 
pense. 


EFFECTS  OF  GAMBLING. 

Remark. — Be  careful  to  observe  the  commas  and  other  points, 
making  an  appropriate  pause  at  each  one  of  them. 

1.  The  love  of  gambling  steals,  perhaps,  more  often 
than  any  other  sin,  with  an  imperceptible  influence  on 
its  victim.  Its  first  ’^pr^text  is  '^'inconsiderable,  and 
falsely  termed  innocent  play,  with  no  more  than  the 
gentle  ■^'excitement  necessary  to  amusement.  This  plea, 
once  indulged,  is  but  too  often  “as  the  letting  out  of 
water.”  The  interest  imperceptibly  grows.  Pride  of 
superior  skill,  opportunity,  avarice,  and  all  the  "^o^r- 
whelming  passions  of  depraved  nature,  ally  themselves 
with  the  incipient  and  growing  fondness.  Dam  and 
dike  are  swept  away.  The  victim  struggles  in  vain,  and 
is  borne  down  by  the  '^uncontrolled  current. 

2.  Thousands  have  given  scope  to  the  '^'latent  guilty 
avarice,  unconscious  of  the  guest  they  harbored  in  their 
bosoms.  Thousands  have  exulted  over  the  avails  of 
gambling,  without  comprehending  the  baseness  of  using 
the  money  of  another,  won  without  honest  industry, 


205 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 

obtaiued  without  an  +equivalen^;  and  perhaps  from  tlie 
tsimjilicity,  rashness,  and  '^inexperience  of  youth.  Miih 
ti tildes  have  commenced  gambling,  thinking  only  to  win 
a small  sum,  and  prove  their  superior  skill  and  dexterity, 
fend  there  pause. 

3.  But  it  is  the  teaching  of  all  time,  it  i^  ,the  expe- 
lience  of  human  nature,  that  effectual  '^'resistance  to 
powerful  propMsities,  if  made  at  all,  is  usually  made 
before  the  '^'coiifmission  of  the  first  sin.  My  dear  reader ! 
let  me  imf)lore  you,  by  the  mercies  of  God  and  the  worth 
of  your  soul,  to  '^con^*^plate  this  enormous  evil  only 
from  a distance.  Stand  firmh^  against  the  first  tempta- 
tion, under  vrhatsoever  '^spdcioiis  forms  it  may  assail 
you.  “Touch  not.”  “Handle  not.”  “Enter  not  into 
temptation.” 

4.  It  is  the  '^'m^lncholy  and  well  known  character 
of  this  sin,  that,  where  once  an  appetite  for  it  has  gained 
possession  of  the  breast,  the  common  motives,  the  gentle 
excitements,  and  the  ordinary  '^'inducements  to  business 
or  amusement,  are  no  longer  felt.  It  incorporates  itself 
with  the  whole  body  of  thought,  and  fills  with  its  fascin- 
ation all  the  desires  of  the  heart.  ISTothing  can,  hence- 
forward arouse  the  spell-bound  victim  to  a '’'plc/a’^urable 
'^con/cISusness  of  existence,  but  the  destructive  stimulus 
of  gambling. 

— 5.  Another  '^appalling  view  of  gambling  is,  that  it  is 
the  prolific  stem^  the  fruitful  parent^  of  all  other  vices.  Blas- 
phemy, falsehood,  cheating,  drunkenness,  quarreling, 
and  mui’der,  are  all  naturally  connected  with  gambling; 
and  what  has  been  said,  with  so  much  power  and  truth, 
of  another  sin,  may,  with  equal  emphasis  and  triifh,  be 
asserted  of  this : “ Allow  yourself  to  become  a '♦'confirmed 
gambler;  and  detestable  as  this  practice  is,  it  will  soon 
be  only  one  among  many  gross  ^sins  of  which  you  will  be 
guilty.”  Giving  yourself  up  to  the  indulgence  of  another 
sinful  course,  might  prove  your  ruin;  but  then  you 
might  perish  only  under  the  guilt  of  the  '♦'indulgence  of 
a single  gross  sin. 

~ n.  But,  should  you  become  a gambler,  you  will,  in  all 


2()G 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


probability,  descend  to  destruction  with  the  added  in- 
famy of  having  been  the  slave  of  all  kinds  of  iniquity, 
and  “led  captive  by  Satan  at  his  will.”  Gambling  seizes 
hold  of  all  the  passions,  allies  itself  with  all  the  appetites, 
and  compels  every  propensity  to  pay  '‘'tribute.  The 
subject,  how(^ver  plausible  in  his,.external  deportment, 
becomes  '‘'a^ai4cious,  greedy,  ‘‘‘iilgatiable.  Meditations 
upon  the  card  table  occupy  all  his  day  and  night  dreams. 
Had  he  the  power,  he  would  '‘'annSiilate  all  the  hours  of 
this  our  short  life,  that  necessarily  '’'intervene  between 
the  periods  of  his  favorite  jDursuit. 

^7.  Cheating  is  a sure  and  '‘'inseparable  attendant  upon 
a continued  course  of  gambling.  We  well  know  with 
what  horror  the  canons  of  the  card  table  repel  this 
charge.  It  pains  us  to  assert  our  deep  and  deliberate 
conviction  of  its  truth.  There  must  be  prostration  of 
moral  principle,  and  silence  of  conscience,^  even  to  begin 
with  it.  Surely  a man  ^ho  regards  the  natural  sense  of 
right,  laying  the  "‘'obligations  of  Christianity  out  of  the 
question,  can  not  sit  down  with  the  purpose  to  win  the 
money  of  another  in  this  way. 

8.  He  must  be  aware,  in  doing  it,  thaf  ^varice  and 
dishonest  thoughts,  it  may  be  almost  "‘'uncohsciously  to 
himself,  mingle  with  his  motives.  Having  once  closed 
his  eyes  upon  the  unworthiness  of  his  motives,  and  de- 
ceived himself,  he  begins  to  study  how  he  may  deceive 
others.  Every  moralist  has  remarked  upon  ^he  delicacy 
of  conscience;  and  that,  from  the  first  "‘'violation,  it  be- 
comes more  and  more  callous,  nfitj!  finally  it  sleeps  a 
sleep  as  of  death,  and  ceases  to  "‘'remc^strate. 

9.  The  gambler  is  less  and  less  scrupulous  about  the 
modes  of  winning,  so  that  he  can  win.  Ho  person  will 
be  long  near  the  gambling  table  of  high  stakes,  be  the 
standing  of  the  players  v/hat  it  may,  without  hearing  the 
charge  of  cheating  bandied  back  and  forward;  or  read- 
ing the  "‘'indignant  expression  of  it  in  their  countenances. 
One  half  of  our  fatal  duels  have  their  immediate  or 
remote  origin  in  insinuations  of  this  sort. 

10.  The  alternations  of  loss  and  gain;  the  "‘'preterna- 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


207 


tural  excitement  of  the  mind,  and  consequent  dcj)ression 
when  that  excitement  has  passed  away ; the  bacchana- 
lian merriment  of  guilty  associates;  the  loss  of  natural 
rest;  in  short,  the  very  ^atmosphere  of  the  gambling 
table,  foster  the  temperament  of  hard  drinldng.  A keen 
sense  of  interest  may,  indeed,  and  often  does,  restrain 
the  gambler,  while  actually  engaged  in  his  employment, 
that  he  may  possess  the  ^requisite  coolness  to  watch 
his  '‘'antagonist,  and  avail  himself  of  every  passing 
advantage. 

11.  But  the  moment  the  high  excitement  of  play  is  in- 
termitted, the  moment  the  passions  '‘'vibrate  back  to  the 
state  of  repose,  what  shall  sustain  the  sinking  spirits ; 
what  shall  renerve  the  relaxed  physical  nature;  what 
shall  fortify  the  mind  against  the  tortures  of  conscience, 
and  the  thoughts  of  “a  judgment  to  come,”  but  '‘intoxi- 
cation? It  is  the  experience  of  all  time,  that  a person  is 
seldom  a gambler  for  any  considerable  period,  without 
being  also  a drunkard. 

12.  Blasphemy  follows,  as  a thing  of  course:  and  is, 

indeed,  the  well-known  and  universal  dialect  of  tl\e 
gambler.  How  often  has  my  heart  sank  within  me,  as 
I have  passed  the  dark  and  dire  receptacles  of  the  gam- 
bler, and  seen  the  red  and  bloated  faces,  and  '‘inhaled 
the  mingled  smells  of  tobacco  and '‘'potent  drink;  and 
heard  the  loud,  strange,  and  horrid  curses  of  the  players ; 
.'ealizing  the  while,  that  these  beings  so  occupied  were 
■‘'candidates  for  eternity,  and  now  on  the  course  which, 
if  not  speedily  forsaken,  would  fix  them  forever  in  hell. 

13.  We  have  already  said,  that  gambling  naturally 
leads  to  quarreling'  and  murder.  How  often  have  we 
retired  to  our  berth  in  the  steamboat,  and  heard  charges 
of  dishonesty,  accents  of  '‘'reviling  and  '‘'recrimination, 
and  hints  that  these  charges  must  be. met  and  settled  at 
another  time  and  place,  ring  in  our  ears,  as  we  have 
been  attempting  to  commune  with  God,  and  settle  in  a 
right  frame  to  repose!  Many  '‘'corses  of  young  men, 
who  met  a violent  death  from  this  cause,  have  we  seen 
carried  to  their  long  home!  Every  gambler,  in  the 


208 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


region  where  we  write,  is  always  armed  to  the  teetn, 
and  goes  to  this  horrid  pursuit,  as  the  gladiator  formerly 
presented  himself  on  the  arena  of  combat. 

14.  The  picture  receives  deeper  shades,  if  we  take  into 
tlic  grouping  the  wife^  or  the  daughter^  or  the  mother^  who 
lies  sleepless,  and  ruminating  through  the  long  night, 
trembling  lest  her  midnight  '^retirement  shall  be  invaded 
by  those  who  bring  back  the  husband  and  the  father 
wounded  or  slain,  in  one  of  those  sudden  '^frays  which 
the  card  table,  its  accompaniments,  and  the  passions  it 
excites,  so  frequently  generate.  Suppose  these  '’'fore- 
bodings should  not  be  realized,  and  that  he  should  steal 
home  alive  in  the  morning,  with  beggary  and  drunken- 
ness, guilt  and  despair,  written  on  his  ’’'haggard  counte- 
nance, and  accents  of  sullenness  and  ill  temper  falling 
from  his  tongue,  how  ’’'insupportably  gloomy  must  be 
the  prospects  of  the  future  to  that  family! 

"15.  These  are  but  feeble  and  general  sketches  of  the 
misery  and  ruin  to  individuals  and  to  .society  from  the 
'’'indulgence  of  this  vice,  during  the  present  life.  If  the 
wishes  of  unbelief  were  true,  and  there  were  no  life  after 
this,  what  perverse  and  miserable  '’’calculations  would  be 
those  of  the  gambler,  taking  into  view  only  the  present 
world!  But,  in  any  view  of  the  character  and  conse- 
quences of  gambling,  who  shall  dare  close  his  eyes  upon 
its  future  hearing  on  the  interest  and  the  eternal  welfare 
of  his  soul ! Who  shall  dare  lay  out  of  the  calculation 
the  retributions  of  '^eternity  f 

16.  Each  of  the  sins  that  enters  into  this  deadly  com- 
pound of  them  all,  must  incur  the  threatened  displeasure 
and  punishment  of  the  Almighty.  If  there  be  degrees 
in  the  misery  and  despair  of  the  '’’tenants  of  that  re- 
gion, “ where  the  worm  dieth  not,  and  the  fire  is  not 
quenched,”  how  must  the  '’'persevering  and  '’'impenitent 
gambler  sink,  as  if  “a  millstone  were  hung  about  his 
neck,  and  he  cast  into  the  sea  1 ” Say  thou,  my  youthful 
reader,  I implore  thee,  looking  up  to  the  Lord  for  a firm 
and  unalterable  purpose,  “ I will  hold  fast  my  integrity 
and  not  let  it  go.” 


ECLECTIC  SEKIES. 


209 


LESSON  LXl.o^ / 


1.  Al-ltjre^-ment  w.  something 
attractive. 

1 Plight  ; n,  state,  condition. 

3 Phan^-tom;  n,  a fancied  vision, 
a specter. 

3.  A-wrt^  ; a(^'.  (pro.  a-ri'')  turned 
to  one  side,  squinting. 

3.  In-an^-i-mate;  ad},  without  life. 


4.  ViG^-iL-ANCE ; n.  watchfulness. 

4.  De-crep^-it  ; a.  wasted  with  age. 

5.  Prone  ; ad},  bending  down,  not 

erect. 

5.  De-based'';  ad},  degraded. 

6.  Un-alms^-ed;  ad},  (pro.  un- 

amzd'')  not  having  received 
alms,  or  charitable  assistance 


THE  MISER. 

Remark. — Remember  that  the  chief  beauty  and  excellence  of  read- 
ing consists  in  a clear  and  smooth  articulation  of  the  words  and 
letters. 

Pronounce  correctly  the  following  words  in  this  lesson.  Do 
not  say  sa-cri-Jisd  for  sac-ri-fic’d  (pro.  sac-ri-Jiz’ d) ; he-nev-erdimce 
for  be-nev-o-lence;  of-fad  for  of-fer’cZ;  bit-ter-niss  for  bit-ter-ness  ; 
yal-ler  for  yel-loii? ; fol-lerd  for  fol-loidj’d ; il-lus4rous  for  il-lus-tri- 
ous ; ub-un-dunce  for  a-bun-dance. 

1.  Gold,  many  hunted,  sweat  and  bled  for  gold ; 
Waked  all  the  night,  and  labored  all  the  day ; 

And  what  was  this  allurement,  dost  thou  ask  ? 

A dust  dug  from  the  "^bowels  of  the  earth, 

Which  being  cast  into  the  fire,  came  out 
A shining  thing  that  fools  admired,  and  called 
A god ; and  in  devout  and  humble  plight 
Before  it  kneeled,  the  greater  to  the  less. 

2 They,  on  its  altar,  '’‘Sacrificed  ease  and  peace. 

Truth,  faith,  '’'integrity,  good  conscience,  friends, 
Love,  '’’charity,  '’’benevolence,  and  all 
The  sweet  and  tender  '’’sympathies  of  life ; 

And,  to  complete  the  horrid,  ’’’murderous  rite, 

And  '’’signalize  their  folly,  offered  up 
Their  souls,  and  an  eternity  of  bliss. 

To  gain  them,  what  ? an  hour  of  dreaming  joy, 

A feverish  hour  that  hasted  to  be  done, 

And  ended  in  the  ’’'bitterness  of  woe. 

.5th  Ik— 18 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


210 

3.  Most,  for  the  ‘^luxuries  it  bought,  the  +pomp. 

The  praise,  the  glitter,  fashion,  and  renown. 

This  yellow  phantom  followed  and  adored. 

• But  there  was  one  in  folly  further  gone. 

With  eye  awry,  '’'incurable,  and  wild. 

The  laughing-stock  of  devils  and  of  men. 

And  by  his  ’’'guardian  angel  quite  given  up ; 

The  miser ^ who  with  dust  inanimate 
Held  wedded  '’'intercourse. 

4.  Ill-guided  wretch  ! 

Thou  might^st  have  seen  him  at  the  midnight  hour, 
When  good  men  slept,  and  in  light-winged  dreams 
Ascended  up  to  God — in  wasteful  hall, 

With  vigilance  and  fasting,  worn  to  skin 

And  bone,  and  wrapped  in  most  '’'debasing  rags. 

Thou  might’st  have  seen  him  bending  o’er  his  heaps, 

And  holding  strange  communion  with  his  gold ; 

And,  as  his  thievish  fancy  seemed  to  hear 

The  night-man’s  foot  apj)roach,  starting  alarmed 

And  in  his  old,  decrepit,  withered  hand. 

That  palsy  shook,  grasping  the  yellow  earth 
To  make  it  sure. 

5.  Of  all  God  made  upright. 

And  in  their  nostrils  breathed  a living  soul. 

Most  fallen,  most  prone,  most  earthy,  most  '’'debased. 
Of  all  that  sold  Eternity  for  Time, 

Hone  bargained  on  so  easy  terms  with  Heath. 

6.  ■’'Illustrious  fool ! Hay,  most  '’'inhuman  wretch  I 
He  sat  among  his  bags,  and,  with  a look 
Which  hell  might  be  ashamed  of,  drove  the  poor 
Away  unalmsed,  and  mid  ’’'abundance  died. 

Sorest  of  evils  !•  died  of  utter  want, 

Questions. — Describe  the  miser  as  here  painted.  What  becomc\ 
of  him  ? 

In  the  first  sentence  “gold  many  hunted,”  what  is  the  subject 
What  the  attribute  ? What  modifier  has  the  attribute  ? In  what  case 
How  governed?  See  Pinneo’s  Analytical  Grammar,  page  140,  Es 
100,  and  Rule  HI. 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


211 


LESSON  LXII.r 


1.  1m-pe''-ri-ous  ; adj,  urgent,  not 
to  be  opposed. 

1.  An-tag^-o-nist  ; n.  an  oppo- 

nent, one  who  contends  with 
another  in  combat. 

2.  Poign''-ant;  adj.  (^vo,  poin-ant) 

sharp,  severe. 

2.  Par^-a-lyzed  ; v.  deprived  of 
the  power  of  action. 


CPIMINALITY  OP  DUELING. 

iM^i,  Alexander  Hamilton  was  challenged  by  Aaron  Burr.  Both 
^ere  distinguished  American  Statesmen,  but  Burr  envied  Hamilton’s 
popularity.  Hamilton  felt  compelled  by  the  force  of  public  opinion 
to  accept  the  challenge,  but  fired  his  pistol  in  the  air,  and  was  him- 
self killed  by  Burr.  The  following  is  from  an  address  by  Dr.  Nott. 

1.  Hamilton  yielded  to  tlie  force  of  an  imperious 
custom;  and  yielding,  he  '^'sacrificed  a life  in  which  all 
had  an  interest;  and  he  is  lost,  lost  to  his  country,  lost 
to  his  family,  lost  to  us.  For  this  rash  act,  because  he 
■♦'disclaimed  it,  and  was  penitent,  I forgive  him.  But 
there  are  those  whom  I can  not  forgive.  I mean  not  his 
antagonist,  over  whose  erring  steps,  if  there  be  tears  in 
heaven,  a pious  mother  looks  down  and  weeps. 

2.  If  he  be  capable  of  feeling,  he  sutlers,  already,  all 
that  humanity  can  suffer : suffers,  and  wherever  he  may 
fly,  will  suffer,  with  the  poignant  '♦'recollection  of  having 
taken  the  life  of  one,  who  was  too  '♦'magnanimous  in 
return  to  attempt  his  own.  If  he  had  known  this,  it 
must  have  paralyzed  his  arm  while  he  pointed,  at  so 
'♦'incorruptible  a bosom,  the  '♦'instrument  of  death.  Does 
he  know  this  now,  his  heart,  if  it  be  not  '♦'adamant,  must 
soften ; if  it  be  not  ice,  it  must  melt.  * * ^ But  on  this 
article  I forbear.  Stained  with  blood  as  he  is,  if  he  be 
penitent  I forgive  him;  and  if  he  be  not,  before  these 
altars,  where  all  of  us  appear  as  '♦'suppliants,  I wish  not 
to  excite  your  '♦'vengeance,  but  rather,  in  behalf  of  an 


3.  Sanct^-u-a-rv;  7i.  a sacred 
place,  a place  of  protection. 

5.  An-i-mad-vert^-ed  ; v.  cen- 
sured, reproved. 

7.  CoM-PUNC^-TiON ; n.  remorse, 

sorrow  from  a consciousness 
of  guilt. 

8.  Plen^-i-tude  ; n.  fullness,  com- 
pleteness. 


212 


NEAY  FIFTH  READER. 


object  rendered  wretched  and  '^’pitiable  by  crime,  to 
wake  your  prayers. 

3.  But  I have  said,  and  I repeat  it,  there  are  those 
whom  I can  not  forgive.  I can  not  forgive  that  minis- 
ter at  the  altar,  who  has  hitherto  forborne  to  '^'remon- 
strate  on  this  subject.  I can  not  forgive  that  public 
■^prosecutor,  who,  intrusted  with  the  duty  of  avenging 
his  country’s  wrongs,  has  seen  these  wrongs  and  taken 
no  measures  to  '^avenge  them.  I can  not  forgive  that 
judge  upon  the  bench,  or  that  governor  in  the  chair  of 
State  who  has  lightly  passed  over  such  offenses.  I can 
not  forgive  the  public,  in  whose  opinion  the  '^duelist 
finds  a sanctuary.  I can  not  forgive  you,  my  brethren, 
who  till  this  late  hour  have  been  silent,  vdiile  '^'succes- 
sive  murders  were  committed. 

4.  hfo;  I can  not  forgive  you,  that  you  have  not  in 
common  with  the  freemen  of  this  State,  raised  your 
voice  to  the  powers  that  be,  and  loudly  and  '^'explicitly 
demanded  an  '^'execution  of  your  laws;  demanded  this 
in  a manner,  which,  if  it  did  not  reach  the  ear  of  gov- 
ernment, would  at  least  have  reached  the  heavens,  and 
have  pleaded  your  excuse  before  the  God  that  filleth 
them;  in  whose  presence  as  I stand,  I should  not  feel 
myself  innocent  of  the  blood  that  crieth  against  us,  had 
I been  silent. 

5.  But  I have  not  been  silent.  Many  of  you  who 
hear  me  are  my  witnesses ; the  walls  of  yonder  temple, 
where  I have  heretofore  addressed  you,  are  my  wit- 
nesses, how  freely  I have  animadverted  on  this  subject, 
in  the  presence  both  of  those  who  have  '^violated  the 
laws,  and  of  those  whose  '^'indispensable  duty  it  is  to  see 
the  laws  executed  on  those  who  violate  them. 

6.  I enjoy  another  ■^opportunity ; and  would  to  God, 
I might  be  permitted  to  approach  for  once  the  last  scene 
of  death.  Would  to  God,  I could  there  assemble,  on  the 
one  side,  the  '^disconsolate  mother  with  her  seven  father- 
less children,  and,  on  the  other,  those  who  administer  the 
justice  of  my  country.  Could  I do  this,  I would  point 
them  to  these  sad  objects. 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


213 


7.  I would  entreat  them,  by  the  agonies  of  ‘‘'bereaved 
fondness,  to  listen  to  the  Avidow’s  heart-felt  groans;  to 
mark  the  orphan’s  sighs  and  tears;  and  having  done 
this,  I Avould  uncover  the  breathless  corpse  of  Hamil- 
ton ; I Avould  lift  from  his  gaping  Avound  his  bloody 
mantle;  I Avould  hold  it  up  to  heaA^en  before  them,  and 
1 would  ask,  in  the  name  of  God,  I Avould  ask,  Avhether 
at  the  sight  of  it  they  felt  no  compunction.  Ye  AA^ho 
have  hearts  of  pity;  ye  who  liaA^e  experienced  the  ‘‘‘an- 
guish  of  '‘‘dissolving  friendship ; who  haA^e  wept,  and 
still  Aveef)  over  the  ‘‘‘moldering  ruins  of  departed  kin- 
dred, ye  can  enter  into  this  ‘‘‘reflection. 

8.  Oh  thou  disconsolate  AvidoAv ! robbea,  so  cruelly 
robbed,  and  in  so  short  a time,  both  of  a husband  and  a 
son ! what  must  be  the  plenitude  of  thy  suffering  I 
Could  we  approach  thee,  gladly  would  Ave  drop  the  tear 
of  ■‘‘sympathy,  and  pour  into  thy  bleeding  bosom  the 
balm  of  ‘‘‘consolation ! But  hoAV  could  Ave  comfort  her 
whom  God  hath  not  comforted!  To  his  throne  let  us 
lift  up  our  voices  and  Aveep.  Oh  God  ! if  thou  art  still 
the  widow’s  husband,  and  the  father  of  the  fatherless ; 
if  in  the  fullness  of  thy  goodness,  there  be  yet  mercy  in 
store  for  ‘‘‘miserable  mortals,  pity,  oh  pity  this  afflieted 
mother,  and  grant  that  her  hapless  ‘‘‘orphans  may  find  a 
friend,  a ‘‘‘benefactor,  a father  in  Thee  1 

Questions.' — Who  was  Ilamilton  ? AVho  was  Burr  ? What  were  the 
circumstances  of  their  duel?  AVhat  is  said  of  Hamilton?  What  is 
said  of  his  antagonist  Burr  who  killed  him  ? AVhat  is  said  of  the 
minister  of  the  altar?  Of  the  public  prosecutor?  Of  the  judge? 
Is  there  any  excuse  for  the  duelist? 

Parse  each  of  the  first  nine  words.  State  which  is  the  subject^  and 
which  the  attribute  of  that  sentence.  AVhat  preposition  connects  the 
objeslive  modifier  ^^force'^  to  the  attribute  yielded." 


EXERCISE  XXVIII. 

The  tale  thrilVd  his  heart.  The  thrifty  man  prospers.  They 
threaded  the  narrow  streets  with  scarcely  a ray  of  light.  Youih^s 
thoughtlessness  heeds  not  the  truths  which  the  experience  of  age 
teaches. 


214 


NEW  FIFTH  HEADER. 


LESSON  LXIIl.^^ 


vA- veii^-sjon;  n.  dislike. 

P-ro-ny;  n.  language  intended  to 
^ convey  a meaning  contrary  to 
its  literal  signification. 


De-ris^'-ion  ; n.  thR  act  of  laughing 
at  in  contempt. 

In-com-pat^-i-ble  ; adj.  that  can 
not  exist  together. 


TIT  FOR  TAT. 

Articulate  distinctly.  Do  not  say  apprise  for  swr-prise , 
Wreci-ly  for  di-rec^-ly;  ole  maid  for  ol(^  maid;  juss  for  jus^; 
un-der-stan  for  un-der-stancZ ; sliglit-es  for  slight-es//  oh-jec  for 
ob-jec^. 

Mrs.  Bolingbroke.  I wish  I knew  what  was  the  matter 
with  me  this  morning.  Why  do  you  keep  the  inews-  v 
pajoer  ail  to  yourself,  my  dear  ? 

3Ir.  Bolingbroke.  Here  it  is  for  you,  my  dear;  I have 
J^finished  it. 

Mrs.  B.  I humbly  thank  you  for  giving  it  to  me 
when  you  have  done  with  it.  I hate  '•'stale  news.  Is 
there  anything  in  the  paper?  for  I can  not  be  at  the 
trouble  of  hunting  it. 

Mr.  B.  Yes,  my  dear;  there  are  the  marriages  of  two 
of  our  friends. 

Mrs.B.  Who?  Who? 

Mr.  B.  Your  friend,  the  widow  Hettleby,  to  her 
cousin  John  Hettleby. 

Mrs.  B.  Mrs.  ISTettleby?  Dear!  But  why  did  you 
tell  me  ? 

Mr.  B.  Because  you  asked  me,  my  dear. 

3frs.  B.  Oh,  but  it  is  a hundred  times  pleasanter  to 
read  the  '•'paragraph  one’s  self.  One  loses  all  the  pleas- 
ure of  the  ■•'surprise  by  being  told.  Well,  whose  was  the 
other  marriage? 

Mr.  B.  Oh,  my  dear,  I will  not  tell  you ; I will  leave 
you  the  pleasure  of  the  surprise. 

Mrs.  B.  But  you  see  I can  not  find  it.  How  '•'pro- 
voking you  are,  my  dear  I Do  pray  tell  me. 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


21b 


Mr.  B.  Our  friend,  Mr.  Granby. 

Mrs.  B.  Mr.  Granby?  Dear!  Why  did  you  not 
make  me  guess  ? I should  have  guessed  him  '♦‘directly. 
But  why  do  you  call  him  our  friend?  I am  sure  he  is  no 
friend  of  mine,  nor  ever  was.  I took  an  aversion  to 
him,  as  you  '♦'remember,  the  very  first  day  I saw  him.  .1 
am  sure  he  is  no  friend  of  mine. 

Mr.  B.  I am  sorry  for  it,  my  dear;  but  I hope  you 
will  go  and  see  Mrs.  Granby. 

Mrs.  B.  Not  I,  indeed,  my  dear.  Who  was  she? 

Mr.  B.  Miss  Cooke. 

Mrs.  B.  Cooke?  But  there  are  so  many  Cookes. 
Can’t  you  '♦‘distinguish  her  any  way?  Has  she  no 
Christian  name? 

Mr.  B.  Emma,  I think.  Yes,  Emma. 

Mrs.  B.  Emma  Cooke?  No;  it  can  not  be  my  friend 
Emma  Cooke ; for  I am  sure  she  was  cut  out  for  an  old 
maid. 

Mr.  B.  This  lady  seems  to  me  to  be  cut  out  for  a 
good  wife. 

Mrs.  B.  May  be  so.  I am  sure  I’ll  never  go  to  see 
her.  Pray,  my  dear,  how  came  you  to  see  so  much  of 
her? 

Mr.  B.  I have  seen  very  little  of  her,  my  dear.  I 
only  saw  her  two  or  three  times  before  she  was  married. 

Mrs.  B.  Then,  my  dear,  how  could  you  '♦'decide,  that 
she  was  cut  out  for  a good  wife?  I am  sure  you  could 
not  judge  of  her  by  seeing  her  only  two  or  three  times, 
and  before  she  was  married. 

Mr.  B.  Indeed,  my  love,  that  is  a very  just  ‘♦‘observa 
tion. 

Mrs.  B.  I understand  that  ‘♦‘compliment  '♦'perfectly, 
and  thank  you  for  it,  my  dear.  I must  own  I can  bear 
any  thing  better  than  irony. 

Mr.  B.  Irony?  my  dear,  I was  perfectly  in  earnest. 

Mrs.  B.  Yes,  yes;  in  earnest;  so  I perceive;  I may 
naturally  be  dull  of  ‘♦'apprehension,  but  my  feelings  are 
quick  enough;  I comprehend  too  well.  Yes,  it  is  im- 
possible to  judge  of  a woman  before  marriage,  or  to 


216 


NEW  FIFTH  READER 


guess  what  sort  ol  a wife  she  will  make.  I presume  you 
sj)eak  from  +experience;  you  have  been  ^disappointed 
yourself,  and  repent  your  choice. 

Mr.  JB.  My  dear,  what  did  I say  that  was  like  this  ? 
Upon  my  word,  I meant  no  such  thing.  I really  was 
not  thinking  of  you  in  the  least. 

Mrs.  JB.  No,  you  never  think  of  me  now.  I can 
easily  believe  that  you  Avere  not  thinking  of  me  in  the 
least. 

Mr.  B.  But  I said  that,  only  to  prove  to  you  that  I 
could  not  be  thinking  ill  of  you,  my  dear. 

Mrs.  B.  But  I would  rather  that  you  thought  ill  of 
me,  than  that  you  should  not  think  of  me  at  all. 

Mr.  B.  Well,  my  dear,  I will  even  think  ill  of  you, 
if  that  will  please  you. 

Mrs.  B.  Do  you  laugh  at  me?  When  it  comes  to 
this,  I am  wretched  indeed.  Never  man  laughed  at  the 
Avoman  he  loved.  As  long  as  you  had  the  slightest 
remains  of  love  for  me,  you  could  not  make  me  an 
object  of  derision;  '‘'ridicule  and  love  are  incompatible, 
'‘'absolutely  incomi^atible.  Well,  I have  done  my  best, 
my  very  best,  to  make  you  happy,  but  in  vain.  I see  I 
am  not  cut  out  to  be  a good  wife.  Happy,  happy  Mrs. 
Granby ! 

Mr.  B.  Happy,  I hope  '‘'sincerely,  that  she  will  be 
with  my  friend ; but  my  happiness  must  depend  on  you, 
my  love;  so,  for  my  sake,  if  not  for  your  own,  be  com- 
posed, and  do  not  '‘'torment  yourself  with  such  ’‘'fancies. 

Mrs.  B.  I do  wonder  whether  this  Mrs.  Granby  is 
really  that  Miss  Emma  Cooke.  I’ll  go  and  see  her 
directly;  see  her  I must. 

Mr.  B.  I am  heartily  glad  of  it,  my  dear ; for  I am 
sure  a visit  to  his  wife  will  give  my  friend  Granby  real 
pleasure. 

Mrs.  B.  I promise  you,  my  dear,  I do  not  go  to  give 
him  pleasure,  or  you  either,  but  to  '‘‘satisfy  my  oAvn 
'^curiosity. 

Questions. — AVhat  inflections  are  proper  at  the  pauses  in  the  last 
two  sentences? 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


217 


LESSON  LXIV. 


1.  SuRG^'-Es;  n,  large  waves. 

1.  V OL-CA''-NOES ; n.  burning  moun- 
tains. 

1,  Ex-plo^-ding;  v.  throwing  out 

with  force  and  a loud  report. 

2,  Con-vul''-sion;  n.  commotion, 

tumult. 

2.  MyrM-ad;  n.  a very  great 
number. 

2.  Con-fla-gra^'-tion;  n,  a great 

fire. 

3.  La^-va;  n.  melted  matter  from 

a volcano. 


4.  Dex-ter'-i-ty;  n.  activity, 
skill.  [burned. 

6.  Com-bust^-i-ble;  adj.  easily 

7.  Earthi-quake;  n.  a shaking 
of  the  earth. 

8.  Am-phi-the^-a-ter;  n.  a build- 
ing of  a round  form  for  public 
amusements. 

8.  A-re^'-na;  n.  an  open  space  of 
ground. 

11.  Ca-tas^-tro-phe  ; n.  an  unfor- 
tunate end. 

11.  Ob^-vi-ous-ly;  adv.  evidently 


CONFLAGRATION  OF  AN  AMPHITHEATER. 

Pronounce  correctly.  Do  not  say  hil-lers  for  bil-loz^js ; vol-lum 
for  vol-ume  (pro.  vol-yum) ; nar~rer  for  nar-ro2^;  Jiij-jus  for  hic?-e- 
ous;  mix-ter  nor  mix-tshure  ^ov  mi'si-ure ; for-tu-net~ly  iov  ioiirW' 
nate-ly;  tre-men-jus  nor  tre-men-ju-ous  for  tre-menc^-ous. 

1.  Eome  was  an  ocean  of  flame.  Higlit  and  depth 
were  covered  with  red  surges,  that  rolled  before  the 
blast  like  an  endless  tide.  The  '‘'billows  burst  up  the 
sides  of  the  hills,  which  they  turned  into  instant  volca- 
noes, exploding  '•'volumes  of  smoke  and  fire;  then 
plunged  into  the  depths  in  a hundred  glowing  '•'cata- 
racts, then  climbed  and  consumed  again. 

2.  The  distant  sound  of  the  city,  in  her  convulsion, 
went  to  the  soul.  The  air  was  filled  with  the  steady 
roar  of  the  '•'advancing  flame,  the  crash  of  falling  houses, 
and  the  '•'hideous  outcry  of  the  myriads,  flying  through 
(he  streets,  or  surrounded  and  perishing  in  the  confla- 
gration. 

3.  All  was  clamor,  violent  '•'struggle,  and  helpless 
death.  Men  and  women  of  the  highest  rank  were  on 
foot,  '•'trampled  by  the  rabble,  that  had  then  lost  all 
respect  for  condition.  One  dense  mass  of  miserable  life, 
■•'irresistible  from  its  weight,  crushed  by  the  narrow 

.5th  Pv.-^IG 


218 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


streets,  and  scorched  by  the  flames  over  their  heads, 
rolled  through  the  gates  like  an  endless  stream  of  black 
lava. 

4.  The  fire  had  '’'originally  broken  out  upon  the  Pal- 
atine, and  hot  smoke,  that  wrapped  and  half  blinded  us, 
hung  thick  as  night  upon  the  wrecks  of  pavilions  and 
palaces;  but  the  dexterity  and  knowledge  of  my  inex- 
plicable guide  carried  us  on. 

5.  It  was  in  vain  that  I insisted  upon  knowing  the 
j)urpose  of  this  terrible  traverse.  He  pressed  his  hand 
upon  his  heart  in  '’'re-assurance  of  his  fidelity,  and  still 
spurred  on.  We  now  passed  under  the  shade  of  an 
immense  range  of  lofty  buildings,  whose  gloomy  and 
solid  strength  seemed  to  bid  '’'defiance  to  chance  and 
time. 

6.  A sudden  yell  appalled  me.  A ring  of  fire  swept 
round  its  summit:  burning  '’'cordage,  sheets  of  canvas, 
and  a shower  of  all  things  combustible,  flew  into  the  air 
above  our  heads.  An  uproar  followed,  unlike  all  that  I 
had  ever  heard,  a hideous  mixture  of  '’'howls,  shrieks, 
and  groans. 

7.  The  flames  rolled  down  the  narrow  street  before 
us,  and  made  the  passage  next  to  '’'impossible.  While 
we  hesitated,  a huge  fragment  of  the  building  heaved  as 
if  in  an  earthquake,  and,  fortunately  for  us,  fell  inward. 
The  whole  scene  of  terror  was  then  open. 

8.  The  great  amphitheater  of  Statilius  Taurus  had 
caught  fire;  the  stage,  with  its  inflammable  furniture, 
was  '’'intensely  blazing  below.  The  flames  were  wheeling 
up,  circle  after  circle,  through  the  seventy  thousand 
seats  that  rose  from  the  ground  to  the  roof.  I stood  in 
■’'unspeakable  awe  and  wonder  on  the  side  of  this  '’'colos- 
sal cavern,  this  mighty  temple  of  the  city  of  fire.  At 
length,  a descending  blast  cleared  away  the  smoke  that 
covered  the  arena. 

9.  The  cause  of  those  horrid  cries  was  now  visible. 
The  wild  beasts  kept  for  the  games,  had  broken  from 
their  dens.  Maddened  by  fright  and  pain,  lions,  tigers, 
panthers,  wolves,  whole  herds  of  the  monsters  of  India 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


219 


and  Africa,  were  inclosed  in  an  '‘'impassable  barrier  of 
fire. 

10.  They  bounded,  they  fought,  they  screamed,  they 
tore;  they  ran  howling  round  and  round  the  circle;  they 
made  '‘'desperate  leaps  upward  through  the  blaze;  they 
were  flung  back,  and  fell  only  to  fasten  their  fangs  in 
each  other,  and,  with  their  parching  jaws  bathed  in 
blood,  to  die  raging. 

11.  I looked  '‘'anxiously  to  see  whether  any  human 
being  was  involved  in  this  fearful  catastrophe.  To  my 
great  relief,  I could  see  none.  The  keepers  and  attend- 
ants had  '‘'obviously  escaped.  As  I expressed  my  glad- 
ness, I was  startled  by  a loud  cry  from  my  guide,  the 
first  sound  that  I had  heard  him  utter. 

12.  He  pointed  to  the  opposite  side  of  the  amphithe- 
ater. There  indeed  sat  an  object  of  '‘'melancholy  inter- 
est; a man  who  had  been  either  unable  to  escape,  or  had 
determined  to  die.  Escape  was  now  impossible.  He 
sat  in  desperate  calmness  on  his  funeral  pile.  He  was  a 
'‘'gigantic  Ethiopian  slave,  entirely  naked. 

13.  He  had  chosen  his  place,  as  if  in  mockery,  on  the 
'‘'imperial  throne;  the  fire  was  above  him  and  around 
him,  and  under  this  tremendous  '‘■canopy  he  gazed, 
without  the  movement  of  a muscle,  on  the  combat  of  the 
wild  beasts  below;  a solitary  sovereign,  with  the  whole 
tremendous  game  played  for  himself,  and  inaccessible  to 
the  power  of  man. 

Questions. — Where  is  Rome?  What  is  a conflagration?  What 
had  happened  to  Rome?  What  is  an  amphitheater?  To  whom  do  we 
owe  our  preservation  from  fire,  and  from  other  calamities? 


EXERCISE  XXIX. 

Thou  indulged^  st  the  appetite.  Oh  wind ! that  waff  si  us  o’er  the 
main.  Thou  tempted’ si  him.  Thou  loved’ st  him  fondly.  Thou 
crediied’st  his  story.  The  lists  are  open.  The  light  dazzl’d  his 
eyes.  They  were  puzzl’d  by  the  intricacies  of  the  path.  In  vain 
thou  muzzl’d’ st  the  tierce  beast 


220 


NEAV  FIFTH  HEADER. 


LESSON  LXV./'; 


! A-R^-ras;  n.  a kind  of  curtains 
liung  around  the  walls  of  a 
room. 

^ UN-CLEAN^-Lr  ; adj,  un-klen'-^ 

l^)  indecent. 

' Wan^-ton-ness;  n.  playfulness/ 
sportiveness.  2f 

^Ciirist^-en-dom;  n.  territory  of 
Christians ; used  for  christer^^' 
ing  or  baptism,  as  if  he  said^j 
By  my  baptism. 

Prate;  .7i.  familiar  talk. 

Sooth;  n.  truth. 

/ ^ Rheum  ; n.  (pro.  rume)  here  use^^ 
for  tears.  [pityt 

Dis-piT^'-E-ous ; adj.  cruel,  withou^ 
y^FouL;  adj.  wicked,  abominable 


(jji^-NON^;  adv.  soon;  still  and  anon 
means^  now  and  then,  fre- 
quently, 

INCE ; V.  to  shrink  back  as  from 
pain. 

Cfiii);  V.  blamed,  reproached. 

(^N-NOY^-ANCE;  n.  any  thing  which 
injures  or  troubles. 

^Trotii;  n.  truth,  veracity. 

Ex-tremes^;  n.  the  greatest  degree 
of  distress;  undeserved  extremes 
meanSj  acts  of  cruelty  which 
he  had  not  deserved. 

ITarre;  V.  (pro,  tar)  to  tease,  to 
set  on. 

Bog^-ged;  adj.  surly,  stubborn. 

^ ose^-ly;  adv.  secretly,  privately. 


PRINCE  ARTHUR. 

Pronounce  correctly.  I-rons,  pro.  i-mms;  un-clean-ly,  pro.  un- 
clen-ly;  Christ-en-dom,  pro.  Krifn~dum ; pris-on,  pro.  'priz’n ; 
rnin-utes,  pro.  min~its ; pret-ty,  pro.  prit4y. 

, Hubert.  Heat  me  these  irons  hot;  and,  look,  thou  stand 
Within  the  arras ; when  I strike  my  foot 
Upon  the  bosom  of  the  ground,  rush  forth. 

And  bind  the  boy,  which  you  shall  find  with  me. 
Fast  to  the  chair ; be  heedful : hence,  and  watch. 

4 First  Attendant.  I hope  your  '^'warrant  will  bear  out  the 
deed. 

Hub.  Uncleanly  '•‘scruples  ! Fear  not  you  : look  to  it. 

(^Exeunt  Attendants.') 

Young  lad,  come  forth ; I have  to  say  with  you. 

(Enter  Arthur.) 

Arthur.  Good  morrow,  Hubert. 

'Hub.  Good  morrow,  little  prince. 
f Arth.  As  little  prince  (having  so  great  a title 

To  ])e  more  prince)  as  may  bo.  Yon  are  sad 


KCLECTIC  SERIES. 


221 


^Huh,  Indeed,  I have  been  merrier. 

^Artli  Mercy  on  me  I 

Methinks  no  person  should  bo  sad  but  1 ; 

Yet  I remember,  when  I was  in  France, 

Young  gentlemen  would  be  as  sad  as  night. 

Only  for  wantonness.  By  my  Christendom, 

So  I were  out  of  prison,  and  kept  sheep, 

1 should  be  merry  as  the  day  is  long  ; 

And  so  would  I be  here,  but  that  I doubt 
My  uncle  '^practices  more  harm  to  me : 

He  is  afraid  of  me,  and  I of  him. 

Is  it  my  fault  that  I were  Geoffrey’s  son  ? 

No,  indeed,  is ’t  not ; and  I would  to  heaven 
I were  your  son,  so  you  would  love  me,  Hubert. 

^ Hub,  If  I talk  to  him,  with  his  '^'innocent  prate 

He  will  awake  my  mercy,  which  lies  dead  : 
Therefore  I will  be  sudden,  and  dispatch. 

/^Arth,  Are  you  sickt^Hubert  ? You  look  pale  to-day. 

In  sooth,  I would  you  were  a little  sick. 

That  I might  sit  all  night,  and  watch  with  you, 

1 warrant  I love  you  more  than  you  do  me. 
iiHuh,  His  words  do  take  possession  of  my  bosom. 

Bead  here,  young  Arthur.  {Showing  a paper.) 
How  now,  foolish  rheum?  {Aside.) 

Turning  tdispiteous  torture  out  of  door  ! 

I must  be  brief,  lest  '^'resolution  drop 
Out  at  mine  eyes,  in  tender  womanish  tears. 

Can  you  not  read  it  ? Is  it  not  fair  writ? 

/j^Arth.  Too  fairly,  Hubert,  for  so  foul  effect : 

Must  you  with  hot  irons  burn  out  both  mine  eyes? 
/j  Hub.  Young  boy,  I must. 

Arth.  And  will  you  ? 

- j • 

//  Hub.  And  I will. 

Arth.  Have  you  the  heart?  When  your  head  did  but 
ache, 

I knit  my  handkerchief  about  your  brows, 

(The  best  1 had,  a princess  wrought  it  me). 

And  1 did  never  ask  it  you  again: 


222 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


And  with  my  hand,  at  midnight,  held  your  head. 
And  like  the  watchful  minutes  to  the  hour. 

Still  and  anon  cheered  up  the  heavy  time ; 

Saying,  What  lack  you?  and.  Where  lies  your 
grief? 

Or,  What  good  love  may  I perform  for  you  ? 
Many  a poor  man’s  son  would  have  lain  still. 

And  ne’er  have  spoke  a loving  word  to  you ; 

But  you  at  your  sick  service  had  a prince. 

Nay,  you  may  think  my  love  was  ’^crafty  love. 
And  call  it  cunning  : do,  an  if  you  will  : 

If  heaven  he  pleased  that  you  should  use  me  ill. 
Why,  then  you  must.  Will  you  put  out  mine  eyes  ? 
These  eyes,  that  never  did,  nor  never  shall,  ^ 

So  much  as  frown  on  you  ? 

/ I have  sworn  to  do  it ; 

And  with  hot  irons  must  I burn  them  out. 

/ Ah,  none  but  in  this  iron  age  would  do  it : 

The  iron  of  itself,  though  heat  red-hot. 
Approaching  near  these  eyes,  would  drink  my 
tears. 

And  ■*‘quench  its  "^fiery  indignation. 

Even  in  the  matter  of  mine  innocence : 

Nay,  after  that,  consume  away  in  rust. 

But  for  containing  fire  to  harm  mine  eye. 

Are  3^ou  more  stubborn-hard  than  hammered  iron? 
And  if  an  angel  should  have  come  to  me. 

And  told  me  Hubert  should  put  out  mine  eyes, 

I would  not  have  believed  no  tongue  but  Hubert’s. 
Come  forth.  (^Stamps.')  (Re-enter  Attendants^  with 
Do  as  I bid  you.  \cord^  irons,  &c.) 

Arth,  Oh,  save  me,  Hubert,  save  me ! My  eyes  are  oul 
Even  with  the  ^fierce  looks  of  these  bloody  men 
Huh,  Give  me  the  iron,  1 say,  and  bind  him  here. 

Arth,  Alas  ! what  need  you  be  so  boisterous  rough? 

I will  not  struggle,  I will  stand  stone-still. 

For  heaven’s  sake,  Hubert ! let  me  not  be  bound  ! 
Nay,  hear  me,  Hubert ! drive  these  men  away, 
And  I will  sit  as  quiet  as  a lamb  : 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


223 


1 wili  not  stir,  nor  wince,  nor  speak  a word, 

JSTor  look  u2)on  the  irons  ^angrily; 

Thrust  but  these  men  away,  and  I’ll  forgive  you. 
Whatever  torment  you  do  put  me  to. 

? Go  stand  within  ; let  me  alone  with  him. 

2.^15^  At.  1 am  best  pleased  to  be  from  such  a deed.  (Ex.  At  ) 
2^  Arth  Alas  1 I then  have  chid  away  my  friend  : 

lie  hath  a stern  look  but  a gentle  heart : 

Let  him  come  back,  that  his  ^compassion  may 
Give  life  to  yours. 

LCJSuh.  Come,  boy,  prepare  yourself. 

£ ^Artli.  Is  there  »o  remedy  ? 

2^IIub.  ISTone,  but  to  lose  your  eyes. 

2,^Art]i.  Oh,  heaven  ! that  there  were  but  a mote  in  yours, 
A grain,  a dust,  a gnat,  a wandering  hair. 

Any  annoyance  in  that  *^precious  sense  ! 

Then,  feeling  what  small  things  are  '^boisterous 
there. 

Your  vile  '^intent  must  needs  seem  horrible. 


Huh.  Is  this  your  promise  ? Go  to,  hold  your  tongue. 

^ !Arth.  Hubert,  the  '^utterance  of  a '•'brace  of  tongues 
Must  needs  want  pleading  for  a pair  of  eyes : 

Let  me  not  hold  my  tongue  ! let  me  not,  Hubert  1 
Or,  Hubert,  if  you  will,  cut  out  my  tongue. 

So  I may  keep  mine  eyes.  Oh,  spare  mine  eyes, 
Though  to  no  use,  but  still  to  look  on  you  I 
Lo,  by  my  troth,  the  instrument  is  cold. 

And  would  not  harm  me. 


X irih 


r . Bub. 
Arth. 


I can  heat  it,  boy. 

Ho,  in  good  sooth,  the  fire  is  dead  with  griefs — 
Being  create  for  comfort — to  be  used 
In  undeserved  extremes.  See  else  yourself. 
There  is  no  malice  in  this  burning  coal ; 

The  breath  of  heaven  hath  blown  its  spirit  out, 
And  ■^'strewed  repentant  ashes  on  its  head. 

But  with  my  breath  I can  revive  it,  boy. 

And  if  you  do,  you  will  but  make  it  blush 


224 


NEW  EIETH  HEADER. 


•.j  ^Eub. 


Artli, 

Huh. 


And  glow  with  shame  of  your  proceedings,  Hu 
bert ; 

Nay,  it  '^'perchance  will  sparkle  in  your  e3^es, 
And,  like  a dog,  that  is  ^compelled  to  fight. 
Snatch  at  his  master  that  does  tarre  him  on 
All  things,  that  you  should  use  to  do  me  wrong, 
Deny  their  office  ; only  you  do  lack 
That  mercy,  which  fierce  fire  and  iron  extend, 
Creatures  of  note,  for  mercy-lacking  uses. 

Well,  see  to  live  ] I will  not  touch  thine  ej^es 
For  all  the  treasure  that  thy  uncle  owns; 

Yet  I am  sworn,  and  I did  purpose,  boy. 

With  this  same  very  iron  to  burn*them  out. 

Oh,  now  you  look  like  Hubert ! all  this  while 
You  were  '^'disguised. 

Peace  : no  more : Adieu ! 

Your  uncle  must  not  know  but  you  are  dead  : 

I ’ll  fill  these  dogged  +spies  with  false  '^reports. 
And,  pretty  child,  sleep  doubtless,  and  secure 
That  Hubert,  for  the  wealth  of  all  the  world. 
Will  not  offend  thee. 


Arth.  Oh  heaven  ! I thank  you,  Hubert. 

Huh.  Silence : no  more.  Go  closely  in  with  me. 
Much  danger  do  I undergo  for  thee. 


Questions. — Why  was  Hubert  about  to  kill  Arthur?  What  Jid 
Arthur  say  ? What  was  the  result  of  his  entreaties? 

What  is  the  subject  of  the  last  sentence  ? What  is  the  attribute  9 


EXERCISE  XXX. 

The  throne  was  thronged  with  suppliants.  The  thrush  and  the 
oriole  seemed  to  vie  in  song.  He  is  thorough  through  all.  Spring- 
ing^  swinging,  clinging,  the  VipQ  jumps  from  branch  to  branch.  The 
subjects  were  appropriate  to  the  circumstances.  Bejiection  is  desira- 
hle  under  difficult  exigencies.  A catapult  is  an  engine  for  throwing 
stones.  A cataplasm  is  a soft  poidtice.  Drifting,  and  almost 
drowned,  he  drank  the  briny  wave.  From  star  „to  star  the  livid 
lightnings  flash. 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


225 


LESSON  LXVI. 


Can^-ni-bals;  n.  men  wlio  eat  hu- 
man flesh.  [vaders. 

Ag-gres^-sors  ; n,  the  first  in- 
Ven-'-i-son;  n.  (pro.  ven^-e-z'n  or 
ven^'-z^n)  the  flesh  of  deer. 


CoL^-o-NY ; n,  a company  of  per- 
sons removing  to  a new  coun- 
try, but  remaining  subject  to 
the  parent  country. 

Keg^-i-ment  ; n,  a body  of  troops 


CHAELES  II.  AND  WILLIAM  PENN. 

Pronounce  correctly.  Do  not  say  sav-ij-is  for  sav-a-ges  ; kit-tle 
for  ket-tle ; idee  for  i-de-a ; reg-i-miint  for  reg-i-ment ; mush-its  for 
musk-ets ; coivira'-ry  for  con^-tra-ry ; suh-jic^  for  sub-jec^s ; 
weapon  for  weap-on. 

J King  Charles,  Well^,  friend  William^!  I have  sold 
yon  a noble  province  in  ITorth  America  ; but  still,  I suj)- 
pose  you  have  no  thoughts  of  going  thither  yourself, 

2,  Penn,  Yes,  I have,  I "^assure  thee,  friend  Charles ; and 
I am  just  come  to  bid  thee  farewell. 

^ K,  C,  What^  ! venture  yourself  among  the  "^savages 
of  North  America^!  Why^,  man^,  what  '•'security  have 
you  that  you  will  not  be  in  their  war  kettle  in  two  hours 
after  setting  foot  on  their  shores  ? 

^ P,  The  best  security  in  the  world. 

(3^  K,  C,  I doubt  that,  friend  William ; I have  no  idea  of 
any  security,  against  those  cannibals,  but  in  a '•'regi- 
ment of  good  soldiers,  with  their  muskets  and  '•'bayonets. 
And  mind^,  I tell  you  beforehand^,  that,  with  all  my 
good  will  for  you  and  your  family,  to  whom  I am  under 
■•'obligations,  I will  not  send  a single  soldier  with  you. 

(p  P,  want  none  of  thy  soldiers,  Charles : I depend  on 
something  better  than  thy  soldiers. 

K,  G,  Ah^I  what  may  be? 

'Y  P,  Why,  I depend  upon  themselves'^ ; on  the  working 
of  their  oion  hearts'^;  on  their  notions  of  justice'^;  on 
their  moral  sense. 


22G 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


K,  C.  A fine  thing,  this  same  moral  sense,  no  doubt ; 
but  1 fear  you  will  not  find  much  of  it  among  the  Indians 
of  North  America. 

P.  And  why  not  among  them,  as  well  as  others  ? 

j K.  C.  Because  if  they  had  possessed  any,  they  would 
not  have  treated  my  tsubjects  so  "^barbarously  as  they 
have  done. 

P.  That  is  no  +proof  of  the  ^contrary,  friend  Charles. 
Thy  subjects  were  the  aggressors.  When  thy  subjects 
first  went  to  North  America,  they  found  these  poor 
people  the  fondest  and  kindest  creatures  in  the  world. 
Every  day,  they  would  watch  for  them  to  come  ashore, 
and  hasten  to  meet  them,  and  feast  them  on  the  best  fish, 
and  venison,  and  corn,  which  were  all  they  had.  In 
return  for  this  hospitality  of  the  savages,  as  we  call 
them,  thy  subjects,  termed  Christians,  seized  on  their 
country  and  rich  hunting  grounds,  for  farms  for 
themselves.  Now,  is  it  to  be  wondered  at,  that  these 
much  injured  people  should  have  been  driven  to  **'des- 
peration  by  such  "^injustice ; and  that,  burning  with  +re- 
venge,  they  should  have  committed  some  '^'excesses  ? 

K.  G.  Well,  then,  I hope  you  will  not  complain  when 
they  come  to  treat  you  in  the  same  manner. 

P.  I am  not  afraid  of  it. 

K.  C.  Ah ! how  will  you  avoid  it  ? You  mean  to  get 
their  hunting  grounds  too,  I suppose  ? 

■ P.  Yes^,  but  not  by  driving  these  poor  people  away 
from  them. 

K.  Q.  No,  indeed^?  How  then  will  you  get  their 
lands  ? 

P.  I mean  to  buy  their  lands  of  them. 

K.  C.  Buy  their  lands  of  them^f  Why,  man,  you 
have  already  bought  them  of  me, 

P.  Yes,  I know  I have,  and  at  a dear  rate,  too  : but  1 
did  it  only  to  get  thy  good  will,  not  that  I thought  thou 
hadst  any  right  to  their  lands. 

K.  C.  How^,  man^?  no  right  to  their  lands? 


ECLECTIC  SERIES.  227 

' P.  No,  friend  Charles,  no  rights  no  right  at  all:  vjhat 
right  hast  thou  to  their  lands  ? 

) K.  C.  Why^,  the  right  of  '^discovery^^  to  be  sure;  the 
right  which  the  Pope  and  all  Christian  kings  have 
agreed  to  give  one  another. 

^ P.  The  right  of  discovery?  A strange  kind  of  right, 
indeed.  Now,  suppose,  friend  Charles,  that  some  '^canoe 
load  of  these  Indians,  crossing  the  sea,  and  '^'discovering 
til  is  island  of  Great  Britain,  were  to  claim  it  as  their 
own,  and  set  it  up  for  sale  over  thy  head,  what  wouldst 
thou  think  of  it? 

K.  G.  Why — why — why — I must  confess,  I should 
think  it  a piece  of  great  Hmpudence'^  in  them. 

P.  Well,  then,  how  canst  thoxi^  a Christian^  and  a 
Christian  'prince  too,  do  that  which  thou  so  utterly  con- 
demnest  in  these  people^  whom  thou  callest  savages? 
Yes,  friend  Charles;  and  suppose,  again,  that  these 
Indians,  on  thy  refusal  to  give  up  thj  island  of  Great 
Britain,  were  to  make  war  on  thee,  and,  having  w^eapons. 
more  '^'destructive  than  thine,  were  to  destroy  many  of 
thy  subjects,  and  drive  the  rest  away, — wouldst  thou 
not  think  it  '^horribly  cruel?  ‘ 

2.  7K-  G.  I must  say,  friend  William,  that  I should;  how 
can  I say  otherwise? 

2^  9 p.  Well,  then,  how  can  I,  who  call  myself  a Christian^ 
do  what  I should  '^abhor  even  in  the  heathen?  No.  1 
will  not  do  it.  But  I will  buy  the  right  of  the  proper 
owners,  even  of  the  Indians  themselves.  By  doing  this, 
I shall  ■^'imitate  God  himself,  in  his  '^Justice  and  mercy, 
and  thereby  insure  his  blessing  on  my  colony,  if  I should 
ever  live  to  plant  one  in  North  America. 

Questions. — What  part  of  the  United  States  was  pur«hased  and 
settled  by  William  Penn?  Upon  what  was  the  king’s  right  founded? 
In  whom  was  the  real  right?  Why?  What  did  Penn  say  to  con- 
vince the  king  that  America  did  not  belong  to  him?  What  plan  did 
Penn  propose  to  adopt,  to  secure  the  good  will  of  the  Indians?  Ex- 
plain the  inflections  marked. 

In  the  last  sentence,  which  are  the  personal  pronouns  of  the  first 
person?  Which  of  the  third  person?  Which  are  the  verbs?  Which 
of  them  is  in  the  participal  mode  ? Which  are  in  the  future  tense, 
indicative  mode? 


228 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


LESSON  LXYIlJ  / 


1.  Dis-so-lu^-tion  ; n.  death,  se- 
paration of  the  soul  and  body. 

5,  In-ad^-e-quate  ; adj.  partial, 
not  equal  to  the  reality. 

6.  Rav^-a-ges  : n,  destruction, 
ruin. 

Ex-trem''-i-ties  ; n.  utmost 
distress : last  extremities  here 
means  death, 

8.  Pro-lon-ga^-tion  ; n.  the  act 
of  lengthening. 


8.  Ve^'-hi-cles  ; n.  carriages  of 
any  kind. 

8.  Re-cep^-ta-cles  ; n.  places  in 
which  to  receive  any  thing. 

9.  As-si-du^-i-ties  ; n.  services 
rendered  with  zeal  and  kind- 
ness. 

10.  CoN-TA^-GiON ; n,  pestilence, 
sickness  spreading  from  the 
touch. 

12.  De-ci^-pher’d  ; v.  explained. 


HORRORS  OF  WAR. 

Pronounce  correctly.  Do  not  say  Jinll  for  whole;  dis-sy-iu- 
iionioT  dis-so-lu-tion ; •at-tact  for  at-tac/i;;  mod-er-it  for  mod-er- 
ate;  for  cli-mates ; for  rav-a-ges ; hea-ven,  pro. 

heaven, 

1.  Though  the  whole  race  of  man  is  doomed  to 
dissolution,  and  we  are  hastening  to  our  long  home;  yet, 
at  each  '^successive  moment,  life  and  death  seem  to 
divide  between  them  the  '^dominion  of  mankind,  and 
life  to  have  the  larger  share.  It  is  otherwise  in  war; 
death  reigns  there  without  a rival,  and  without  '^'control. 

2.  War  is  the  work,  the  element,  or  rather  the  sport 
and  triumph  of  death,  who  here  glories  not  only  in  the 
extent  of  his  conquests,  but  in  the  richness  of  his  spoil. 
In  the  other  methods  of  attack,  in  the  other  forms  which 
death  '^assumes,  the  feeble  and  the  aged,  who  at  best  can 
live  but  a short  time,  are  usually  the  victims;  here  they 
are  the  "^vigorous  and  the  strong. 

3.  It  is  remarked  by  the  most  ancient  of  poets,  that 
in  jpeace,,  children  bury  their  parents^;  in  war,  parents 
bury  their  children'^,  nor  is  the  difference  small.  ChiU 
dren  lament  their  parents,  sincerely,  indeed,  but  with 
that  moderate  and  ‘^'tranquil  sorrow,  which  it  is  natural 
for  those  to  feel  who  are  conscious  of  retaining  many^ 
tender  ties,  many  animating  prospects. 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


229 


4.  Parents  mourn  for  their  children  Wxih  the  bitter- 
ness of  despair ; the  aged  parent,  the  widowed  mother, 
loses,  when  she  is  deprived  of  her  children,  every  thing 
but  the  capacity  of  suffering ; her  heart,  withered  and 
■^desolate,  admits  no  other  object,  '^'cherishes  no  other 
hope.  It  is  Eachel,  weeping  for  her  children,  and  re- 
fusing to  be  comforted,  because  they  are  not. 

5.  But,  to  confine  our  attention  to  the  number  of  the 
slain,  would  give  us  a very  inadequate  idea  of  the  rav- 
ages of  the  sword.  The  lot  of  those  who  perish  '^instan- 
taneously may  be  considered,  apart  from  religious 
prospects,  as  '^comparatively  happy,  since  they  are 
exempt  from  those  lingering  diseases  and  slow  torments 
to  which  others  are  so  liable. 

6.  We  can  not  see  an  individual  '^expire,  though  a 
stranger  or  an  enemy,  without  being  sensibly  moved 
and  prompted  by  compassion  to  lend  him  every  'tassist- 
ance  in  our  power.  Every  trace  of  '^resentment  vanishes 
in  a moment ; every  other  emotion  gives  way  to  pity 
and  terror. 

7.  In  the  last  extremities,  we  remember  nothing  but 
the  respect  and  tenderness  due  to  our  common  nature. 
What  a scene,  then,  must  a field  of  battle  present,  where 
thousands  are  left  without  assistance,  and  without  pity, 
with  their  wounds  exposed  to  the  '^piercing  air,  while 
the  blood,  freezing  as  it  fiows,  binds  them  to  the  earth, 
amid  the  '^trampling  of  horses,  and  the  insults  of  an 
■^'enraged  foe ! 

8.  If  they  are  spared  by  the  humanity  of  the  enemy, 
and  carried  from  the  field,  it  is  but  a prolongation  of 
Horment.  Conveyed  in  uneasy  vehicles,  often  to  a 
remote  distance,  through  roads  almost  impassable,  they 
are  lodged  in  ill-prepared  receptacles  for  the  wounded 
and  sick,  where  the  '^'variety  of  distress  baflies  all  the 
efforts  of  '^'humanity  and  skill,  and  renders  it  impossible 
to  give  to  each  the  attention  he  demands. 

9.  Far  from  their  native  home,  no  tender  assiduities 
of  friendship,  no  well-known  voice,  no  wife,  or  mother, 
or  sister,  are  near  to  soothe  their  sorrows,  relieve  their 


230 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


thirst,  or  close  their  cjcs  in  death!  Unhappy  manl 
and  must  you  be  swept  into  the  grave  '^unnoticed  and 
■^unnumbered,  and  no  friendly  tear  be  shed  for  your 
sufferings,  or  mingled  with  your  dust? 

10.  We  must  remember,  however,  that  as  a very  small 
proportion  of  '^military  life  is  spent  in  actual  '‘'combat, 
so  it  is  a very  small  part  of  its  miseries  which  must  be 
ascribed  to  this  source.  More  are  consumed  by  the  rust 
of  inactivity  than  by  the  edge  of  the  sword;  confined 
to  a scanty  or  '‘'unwholesome  diet,  exposed  in  sickly 
climates,  harassed  with  tiresome  marches  and  '‘'perpetual 
alarms ; their  life  is  a continual  scene  of  hardships  and 
danger.  They  grow  '‘'familiar  with  hunger,  cold,  and 
watchfulness.  Crowded  into  hospitals  and  prisons,  con- 
tagion spreads  among  their  ranks,  till  the  ravages  of 
disease  exceed  those  of  the  enemy. 

11.  We  have  hitherto  only  ‘‘'adverted  to  the  sufferings 
of  those  Avho  are  engaged  in  the  profession  of  armfe, 
without  taking  into  our  account  the  situation  of  the 
countries  which  are  the  scenes  of  hostilities.  How 
dreadful  to  hold  every  thing  at  the  mercy  of  an  enemy, 
and  to  receive  life  itself  as  a boon  dependent  on  the 
sword  1 

12.  How  boundless  the  fears  which  such  a situation 
must  inspire,  where  the  '‘'issues  of  life  and  death  are 
determined  by  no  known  laws,  principles,  or  customs, 
and  no  '‘'conjecture  can  be  formed  of  our  destiny,  except 
so  far  as  it  is  dimly  deciphered  in  characters  of  blood,  in 
the  '‘'dictates  of  revenge,  and  the  caprices  of  power! 

13.  Conceive,  but  for  a moment,  the  consternation 
which  the  approach  of  an  ^invading  army  would 
impress  on  the  peaceful  villages  in  our  own  neighbor- 
hood. When  you  have  placed  yourselves  in  that  situa- 
tion, 3"Ou  will  learn  to  '‘'sympathize  with  those  unhappy 
countries  which  have  sustained  the  ravages  of  arms.  But 
how  is  it  possible  to  give  you  an  idea  of  these  horrors ! 

14.  Here,  you  behold  rich  harvests,  the  bounty  of 
heaven,  and  the  reward  of  industry,  consumed  in  a 
moment,  or  trampled  under  foot,  while  famine  and 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


231 


^pestilence  follow  the  steps  of  '^'desolation.  Tliere,  the 
cottages  of  peasants  given  up  to  the  fiamcs,  mothers 
exjDiring  through  fear,  not  for  themselves,  but  their 
infants;  the  inhabitants  flying  with  their  helpless  babes 
in  all  directions,  miserable  fugitives  on  their  native  soil! 

15.  Ill  another  place,  you  witness  "^  opulent  cities  taken 
by  storm ; the  streets,  where  no  sounds  were  heard  but 
those  of  peaceful  industry,  filled  on  a sudden  with 
slaughter  and  blood,  resounding  with  the  cries  of  the 
pursuing  and  the  pursued ; the  palaces  of  nobles  demol- 
ished, the  houses  of  the  rich  pillaged,  and  every  age,  sex, 
and  rank,  mingled  in  '^'promiscuous  massacre  and  mini 


LESSON  LXVIII.<i'  ^ 


1.  Rev^-el-ry;  n,  noisy  feasting 
and  gayety. 

1.  Chiv^-al-ry;  n.  kniglithood,  a 
body  of  knights  or  brave  men. 

1.  Vo-LUP^-TU-ous;  adj.  exciting 
animal  pleasure. 


4.  Squad^-ron  ; n.  a body  of  troops. 

5.  Ar^-dennes;  n.  (pro.  Ar^-dens) 

a forest  near  Waterloo. 

6.  Mar^-shal-ing;  n.  arranging 

in  order. 

G.  Blent;  v.  mixed,  united. 


BATTLE  OF  WATERLOO.* 

In  reading  the  following  extract,  much  variety  of  expression  is 
required.  The  description  of  the  ball  should  be  read  in  a lively, 
animated  manner;  that  of  the  distant  alarm  in  low,  hurried  tones,  as 
if  intently  listening  and  deeply  anxious;  the  haste  of  preparation  ^ 
and  departure  requires  life;  and  the  third  and  last  two  stanzas  should 
be  read  in  a mournful  and  plaintive  style. 

L There  was  a sound  of  revelry  by  night. 

And  Belgium’s  '^'capital  had  gathered  then 

*This  battle  was  fought  on  June  18th,  1815,  between  the  FrencI 
army  on  one  side,  commanded  by  Napoleon  Bonaparte,  and  the. Eng 
lish  array  and  allies  on  the  other  side,  coraraanded  by  the  Duke  of 
Wellington.  At  the  commencement  of  the  battle,  some  of  the  officers 
were  at  a ball  at  Brussels,  a short  distance  from  Waterloo,  and  being 
notified  of  the  approaching  contest  by  the  cannonade,  left  the  ballroom 
for  the  field  of  battle.  This  was  the  last  of  Napoleon’s  battles.  He 
was  here  completely  overthrown. 


232 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


Her  beauty  and  her  chivalry,  and  bright 

The  lamps  shone  o’er  fair  women  and  brave  men. 

A thousand  hearts  beat  happily;  and  when 
Music  arose  with  its  voluptuous  swell, 

Soft  eyes  looked  love  to  eyes  which  spake  again, 

And  ail  went  merry  as  a marriage  bell ; 

But  hush^  ! hark^i — a deep  sound  strikes  like  a rising 
knell ! 

2 Did  ye  not  hear  it? — Ho^ ; ’twas  but  the  wind. 

Or  the  car  rattling  o’er  the  stony  street: 

On  with  the  dance'll  let  joy  be  ^unconfined; 

]^o  sleep  till  morn,  when  youth  and  pleasure  meet 
To  chase  the  ^glowing  hours  with  flying  feet — 

But,  hark^  ! — ^that  heavy  sound  breaks  in  once  more^, 
As  if  the  clouds  its  echo  would  repeat^. 

And  nearer^ j clearer^  ^ deadlier'"  than  before  ! 

! arw>  I it  is — it  is  the  cannon's"^  opening  roa^  ! 

3 Ah  ! then  and  there  was  ^hurrying  to  and  fro^. 

And  gathering  tears,  and  '^'tremblings  of  distress, 

And  cheeks  all  pale^,  which,  but  an  hour  ago 
Blushed  at  the  praise  of  their  own  '^'lovelin^ss^ ; 

And  there  were  sudden  partings,  such  as  press 
The  life  from  out  young  hearts,  and  choking  sighs 
Which  ne’er  might  be  repeated — who  could  guess 
If  ever  more  should  meet  those  '‘‘mutual  eyes. 

Since  upon  night  so  sweet  such  awful  morn  could 
rise. 

4 And  there  was '’'mounting  in  hot  haste^;  the  steed'', 
The  ‘‘‘mustering  squadron^,  and  the  '‘‘clattering  car^ 
Went  pouring  forward  with  ‘‘‘impetuous  speed. 

And  swiftly  forming  in  the  ranks  of  war ; 

And  the  deep  thunder,  peal  on  peal  afar. 

And  near,  the  beat  of  the  alarming  drum 
Roused  up  the  soldier  ere  the  morning  star  ; 

While  '‘'thronged  the  '‘‘citizens  with  terror  dumb. 

Or  whispering  with  white  lips — “ The  foe'" ! They 
com.e:"  ! They  come'"  /” 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


233 


5 And  Ardennes  waves  above  them  her  green  leaves, 
Dewy  with  nature’s  teardrops,  as  they  pass, 
^Grieving,  if  aught  ^inanimate  e’er  grieves. 

Over  the  +unreturning  brave ! — alas ! 

Ere  evening  to  be  trodden  like  the  grass. 

Which,  noWj  beneath  them,  but  above,  shall  grow, 

In  its  next  verdure,  when  this  fiery  mass 
Of  living  valor,  rolling  on  the  foe, 

And  burning  with  high  hope,  shall  '^molder,  cold  and 
low. 

6 Last  noon  beheld  them  full  of  lusty  life, 

Last  eve  in  beauty’s  circle  proudly  gay, 

The  midnight  brought  the  signal-sound  of  ^strife, 

The  morn,  the  marshaling  in  arms, — the  day, 

Battle’s  magnificently  stern  array! 

The  thunder  clouds  close  o’er  it,  which  when  rent. 
The  earth  is  covered  thick  with  other  clay, 

Which  her  own  clay  shall  cover,  heaped  and  +pent, 
Eider  and  horse, — friend,  foe — in  one  red  burial 
blent. 

Questions. — When,  where,  and  between  what  parties  and  com- 
manders was  the  battle  of  W aterloo  fought  ? What  is  described  in  flie 
first  few  lines?  What  place  is  meant  by  the  capital  of  Belgium? 
What  were  the  officers  doing  when  the  sound  of  the  distant  battle  was 
heard  ? 

What  instances  of  absolute  emphasis  in  the  second  stanza  ? What, 
of  relative  emphasis  in  the  fifth  stanza  ? How  should  the  last  line  of 
the  fourth  stanza  be  read  ? 


EXERCISE  XXXI. 

Thwack  went  the  bludgeon  athwart  the  brittle  beam.  The  falVn 
flag  was  draggVd  in  the  brine.  Blotched  and  bloated^  the  blear^ 
eyed  swaggerer  staggered  onward.  The  high  bred  Briton  braves  the 
6a^^?6-field.  The  chill  precincts  of  the  dreaded  tomb.  Shot  madly 
from  Us  sphere.  Lifers  fitful  fever  over,  he  rests  well 


234 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


LESSON  LXIX. 


1,  De  void''  ; adj,  destitute. 

2.  Rec^'-ti-tude  ; n,  correctness  of 

principle. 

4.  Vision;  w.  faculty  of  sight. 

6,  Cas^-u-al;  adj.  accidental. 

6.  Com^-plai-sance;  n.  (pro.  com^- 
pla-zance)  obliging  treatment. 


8.  Sec-'-u-lar;  adj,  w(frldly. 

9^  Tam^-per  ; V,  to  meddle  with 
improperly. 

11.  En«tatl^;  V.  to  fix  unalienably 
upon  a particular  person. 

13/  Pelf;  n.  money,  riches. 

13.  Com-pen-sa^-tion  ; n.  amends. 


LOVE  OF  APPLAUSE. 

Sound  the  r clearly  in  the  following  words : are,  mark,  bard, 
hard,  lard,  barb,  garb,  hear,  clear,  dear,  near,  tear,  arm,  harm, 
charm,  lord,  cord,  far,  care,  course,  never,  merely,  conform. 

Be  careful  also  to  pronounce  correctly.  Do  not  say  oth-uz  for 
oth-ers ; root  for  rwle ; vir-ioo  for  virt-we ; rec-ti-tsliude  for  rec-ti 
twde ; ud-c^t  for  a-dopt ; mus-sy  for  mer-cy ; com-^laV -sance  for 
com^-plai-sance ; sa-cri-Jis  for  sac-ri-D'ce ; sec-ky-lar  nor  sec-ew-lar 
for  sec-w-lar ; mor-uls  for  mor-als ; scru-py-Ious  for  scru-pw-lous. 

•1.  To  he  ^insensible  to  public  opinion,  or  to  the  esti- 
mation in  which  we  are  held  by  others,  indicates  any 
thing,  rather  than  a good  and  generous  spirit.  It  is,  in- 
deed, the  mark  of  a low  and  worthless  character;  devoid 
of  principle,  and  therefore  devoid  of  shame.  A young 
man  is  not  far  from  ruin,  when  he  can  say  without 
blushing,  I do  n't  care  what  others  think  of  me, 

2.  But  to  have  a proper  regard  to  public  opinion,  Is 
one  thing;  to  make  that  opinion  our  rule  of  action,  is 
quite  another.  The  one  we  may  cherish  ^consistently 
with  the  purest  virtue,  and  the  most  unbending  recti- 
tude; the  other  we  can  not  adopt,  without  an  utter 
■^■abandonment  of  principle  and  disregard  of  duty. 

3.  The  young  man  whose  great  aim  is  to  please,  who 
makes  the  opinion  and  favor  of  others  his  rule  and 
motive  of  action,  stands  ready  to  adopt  any  '^'sentiments, 
or  pursue  any  course  of  conduct,  however  false  and 
■♦■criminal,  provided  only  that  it  be  po^mlar. 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


235 


4.  In  every  ^emergency,  liis  first  question  is,  what 
will  my  companions,  what  will  the  world  think  and  say 
of  me,  if  I adopt  this  or  that  course  of  conduct?  Duty, 
the  ’^eternal  laws  of  rectitude,  are  not  thought  of.  Cus 
tom,  fashion,  '’'popular  favor:  these  are  the  things  that 
fill  his  entire  vision,  and  decide  every  question  of  opinion 
and  duty. 

5.  Such  a man  can  never  he  trusted;  for  he  has  no 
■’'integrity,  and  no  independence  of  mind  to  obey  the 
dictates  of  rectitude.  He  is  at  the  mercy  of  every  casual 
■’'impulse  and  change  of  ’’'popular  opinion ; and  you  can 
no  more  tell  whether  he  will  be  right  or  wrong  to-mor- 
row, than  you  can  predict  the  course  of  the  wind,  or 
what  shape  the  clouds  will  then  assume. 

6.  And  what  is  the  usual  consequence  of  this  weak 
and  foolish  regard  to  the  opinions  of  men?  What  the 
end  of  thus  acting  in  '’'compliance  with  custom  in  opposi- 
tion to  one’s  own  conviction  of  duty?  It  is  to  lose  the 
esteem  and  respect  of  the  very  men  whom  you  thus 
attempt  to  please.  Your  defect  of  principle  and  ■’’hoHow- 
heartedness  are  easily '’’perceived:  and  though  the  per- 
sons to  whom  you  thus  '’'sacrifice  your  conscience,  may 
affect  to  commend  your  complaisance,  you  may  be 
’’assured,  that,  inwardly,  they  despise  you  Jfor  it. 

7.  Young  men  hardly  commit  a greater  mistake,  than 
to  think  of  gaining  the  esteem  of  others,  by  yielding  to 
their  wishes  contrary  to  their  own  sense  of  duty.  Such 
conduct  is  always  ’’'morally  wrong,  and  rarely  fails  to 
■’’deprive  one,  both  of  self-respect  and  the  respect  of 
others. 

8.  It  is  very  common  for  young  men,  just  com- 
mencing business,  to  imagine  that,  if  they  would  advance 
their  secular  interests,  they  must  not  be  very  scrupulous 
in  binding  themselves  down  to  the  strict  rules  of  recti- 
tude. They  must  conform  to  custom ; and  if,  in  buying 
and  selling,  they  sometimes  say  things  that  are  not  true, 
and  do  things  that  are  not  honest;  why,  their  ricigh- 
bors  do  the  same;  and,  verily,  there  is  no  getting  along 
without  it.  There  is  so  much  competition  and  '’’rivalrv 


NEW  FIFTH  HEADER. 


236 

that,  to  be  ’^strictly  honesty  and  yet  succeed  in  business,  is 
out  of  the  question. 

9.  Now,  if  it  Avere  indeed  so,  I Avould  say  to  a young 
man ; then,  quit  your  business.  Better  dig,  and  beg  too, 
than  to  tamper  with  conscience,  sin  against  God,  and 
lose  your  soul. 

10.  But  is  it  so?  Is  it  necessary,  in  order  to  succeed 
in  business,  that  3^011  should  adopt  a ^standard  of  morals, 
more  lax  and  pliable,  than  the  one  placed  before  you  in 
the  Bible?  Perhaps  for  a time,  a rigid  ‘^adherence  to 
rectitude  might  bear  hard  upon  you;  but  how  would  it 
be  in  the  end?  Possibly,  3^0111*  neighbor,  by  being  less 
‘‘'scrupulous  than  yourself,  may  invent  a more  ‘‘'expedi- 
tious way  of  acquiring  a fortune.  If  he  is  Avilling  to 
violate  the  dictates  of  conscience,  to  lie  and  cheat,  and 
trample  on  the  rules  of  justice  and  honesty,  he  may, 
indeed,  get  the  start  of  you,  and  rise  suddenly  to  wealth 
and  distinction. 

11.  But  would  you  envy  him  his  riches,  or  be  Avilling 
to  place  yourself  ^in  his  situation?  Sudden  Avealth, 
‘‘especially  when  obtained  by  dishonest  means,  rarely 
fails  of  bringing  with  it  sudden  ruin.  Those  who  acquire 
it,  are  of  course  beggared  in  their  morals,  and  are  often, 
very  soon,  beggared  in  property.  Their  riches  are  ‘‘‘cor- 
rupted;  and  while  they  bring  the  curse  of  God  on  their 
■‘‘immediate  ‘‘‘possessors,  they  usually  entail  misery  and 
ruin  upon  their  families. 

12.  If  it  be  admitted,  then,  that  strict  integrity  is  not 
always  the  shortest  way  to  success,  is  it  not  the  surest, 
the  happiest,  and  the  best?  A young  man  of  thorough 
integrity  may,  it  is  true,  find  it  difficult,  in  the  midst  of 
dishonest  ‘‘‘competitors  and  rivals,  to  start  in  his  business 
or  ‘‘‘profession;  but  hoAV  long,  ere  he  will  surmount 
every  difficulty,  draAV  around  him  ‘‘‘patrons  and  friends, 
and  rise  in  the  confidence  and  support  of  all  who  know 
him. 

13.  What,  if,  in  pursuing  this  course,  you  should  not, 
at  the  close  of  life,  have  so  much  mone3’',  by  a fcAV  hun- 
dred dollars?  Will  not  a fiiir  character,  an  approving 


ECLECTIC  SERIES.  237 

couscience,  and  an  approving  God,  bo  an  abundant  com- 
pensation for  this  little  ^deficiency  of  pelf? 

14.  Oh,  there  is  an  hour  coming,  when  one  whisper  of 
an  approving  mind,  one  smile  of  an  approving  God,  will 
be  accounted  of  more  value  than  the  wealth  of  a thou- 
sand worlds  like  this.  In  that  hour,  my  young  friends, 
nothing  will  sustain  you  but  the  '^'consciousness  of 
having  beer,  governed  in  life  by  worthy  and  good 
principles. 

Questions. — What  erroneous  opinion  is  common  concerning  the 
oecessity  of  strict  honesty  ? Why  should  a young  man  have  a proper 
respect  for  public  opinion  ? What  will  be  the  consequence  of  disre- 
garding this? 

In  the  fifth  paragraph,  in  the  following  sentence,  “ Such  a man  can 
never  be  trusted,”  which  word  is  the  tVhat  is  the  attribute? 


LESSON  LXX. 


1.  Note;  n.  notice. 

1.  Knell;  n.  the  sound  of  the 

funeral  bell. 

2.  Verge;  n.  the  brink-,  the  edge. 

3.  Ab^-ject  ; adj.  worthless,  mean. 
3.  Au-gust^;  adj.  grand,  majestic. 
3.  Com^-pli-cate;  adj.  complex. 

composed  of  many  parts. 

3.  Ex^-quis-ite  ; adj.  nice,  com- 
plete. 

3.  E-tiie^'-re-al  ; adj.  heavenly. 

3.  Sul'-lied  ; v.  stained,  soiled. 


3.  Ab-sorpt^;  v.  wasted,  swallow- 
ed up. 

5.  Ean-tas^-tic  ; adj.  fanciful,  ex- 
isting only  in  imagination. 

5.  An^-tic;  adj.  odd,  fanciful. 

5.  Sub^-tler;  adj.  (pro.  sut-tler\ 
more  delicate. 

5.  Es^-sence;  n.  existence,  sub- 

stance. 

6.  Weal;  n.  prosperity. 

6.  IIus^-band;  v.  to  manage  with 
economy. 


MIDNIGHT  MUSINGS. 

Remark. — Let  each  pupil  in  the  class  observe  and  mention  every 
«y liable  that  is  not  sounded  as  each  one  reads. 

Pronjunce  correctly.  Do  not  say  ann-gel  for  an-gel  (pro.  ane- 
gel);  for  heard  (pro.  herd);  for  de-mands ; com- 

pli-ldt  for  com-pli-cate ; ex-qids^4te  for  ex^-quis-ite;  db-ser-lide  ior 
ab-so-lute  ; Jius-buns  for  hus-banc?8. 

1.  The  bell  strikes  One.  W e take  no  note  of  time, 
But  from  its  loss  : to  give  it  then  a tongue 


238 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


Is  wise  in  man.  As  if  an  angel  spoke 
I feel  the  solemn  sound.  If  heard  aright, 

It  is  the  knell  of  my  departed  hours. 

Where  are  they?  With  the  years  beyond  the  flood 
It  iS^the  signal  that  demands  ^dispatch. 

2 How  much  is  to  be  done  ! My  hopes  and  fears 
Start  up  alarmed,  and  o’er  life’s  narroAV  verge 
Look  down — on  what?  A fathomless  '^'ahyss, 

A dread  eternity,  how  surely  mine ! 

And  can  eternity  belong  to  me. 

Poor  ^pensioner  on  the  bounties  of  an  hour? 

3.  How  poor,  how  rich,  how  abject,  how  august. 
How  complicate,  how  wonderful  is  man  ! 

How  passing  wonder  He  who  made  him  such ! 

Who  centered  in  our  make  such  strange  extremes 
Prom  different  natures  *^marvelously  mixed, 
Connection  exquisite  of  distant  worlds ! 
Distinguished  link  in  being’s  endless  chain ! 

Midway  from  nothing  to  the  Deity ! 

A beam  ethereal,  sullied,  and  absorpt ! 

Though  sullied  and  dishonored,  still  divine ! 

Dim  ***miniature  of  greatness  absolute ! 

An  heir  of  glory ! a frail  child  of  dust ! 

Helpless '^immortal ! insect  infinite ! 

A worm  1 a god ! — I tremble  at  myself. 

And  in  myself  am  lost. 

L At  home  a stranger. 

Thought  wanders  up  and  down,  surprised,  ‘’’aghast, 
And  wondering  at  her  own.  How  reason  reels! 

Oh  what  a miracle  to  man  is  man  I 
Triumphantly  distressed!  what  joy!  what  dread! 
+Alternately  transported  and  alarmed ; 

What  can  preserve  my  life ! or  what  destroy ! 

An  angel’s  arm  can’t  snatch  me  from  the  grave; 
‘’‘Legions  of  angels  can’t  confine  me  there. 

5.  ’ T is  past  ’’‘conjecture ; all  things  rise  in  proof. 

While  o’er  my  limbs  Sleep’s  soft  dominion  spread, 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


239 


What  though  my  soul  fantastic  measures  trod 
O’er  fairy  fields,  or  mourned  along  the  gloom 
Of  pathless  woods,  or  down  the  ‘♦'craggy  steep, 
Hurled  headlong,  swam  with  pain  the  mantled  pool. 
Or  scaled  the  cliff,  or  danced  on  hollow  winds 
With  antic  shapes,  wild  natives  of  the  brain! 

Her  ceaseless  fiight,  though  '♦‘devious,  speaks  her 
nature 

Of  subtler  essence  than  the  trodden  clod ; 

Active,  ‘♦‘aerial,  towering,  un confined. 

Unfettered  with  her  ‘♦'gross  companion’s  fall. 

6.  Even  silent  night  ‘♦’proclaims  my  soul  immortal; 
Even  silent  night  proclaims  eternal  day. 

For  human  weal  Heaven  husbands  all  events: 

Dull  sleep  instructs,  nor  sport  vain  dreams  in  vain. 

Questions. — What  leads  us  to  take  “ note  of  time?  Repeat  some 
of  the  epithets  applied  to  man.  What  does  one  class  of  these  epk 
thets  represent  man  to  he  ? In  what  light  does  the  other  class  con- 
sider him?  In  what  respect  is  he  a “worm?  ’’  How  can  he  he  called 
a “god?'^  What  is  the  state  of  the  mind  during  sleep?  What  does 
this  prove  ? 


EXERCISE  XXXII. 

The  krahen  is  probably  a fabulous  animal.  The  kremlin  is  the 
Russian  emperor^ s palace.  With  his  crutch  he  crushed  ih.Q  flowers. 
The  prank  was  not  praiseworthy.  The  props  were  prop^d  by  other 
props.  The  crafty  creatures  crawVd  in  crowds.  The  proud  prig 
prates. 


240 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


LESSON  LXXI.// 


U Car-a-van^-sa-ry  ; n.  a kind  of 
inn  where  caravans  or  large 
companies  of  traders  rest  at 
night. 

5.  Me-an^-ders;  n.  windings  or 

turnings. 

6.  Cir-cum-vo-lu^-tion;  n.  a wind- 

ing or  flowing  around. 


7.  De-vi-a^-tion;  n.  a turning 
aside  from  the  right  way. 

9.  Sa^-ber;  n.  a kind  of  sword. 

12.  Mit-i-ga^-tion  ; n.  lessening 
the  pain. 

14>  Im-merge^;  v,  to  plunge  into. 

14.  Lab^-y-rinth;  n,  a place  full 
of  winding  passages. 


A PICTURE  OF  HUMAN  LIFE. 

Articulate  all  the  consonants  in  the  following  and  similar 
words  in  this  lesson:  fresh,  Hindoostan,  swiftly,  sprinkled,  fra- 
grance, primrose,  tempted,  thickets,  greatest,  prospect,  overspread, 
remembrance,  resolved,  prostrated,  torrents,  gratitude,  occurrences, 
escapes,  en^ngle,  labyrinth. 

1.  Obidah,  the  son  of  Abensina,  left  the  caravansary 
early  in  the  morning,  and  pursued  his  journey  through 
the  j)lains  of  Hindoostan.  He  was  fresh  and  vigorous 
with  rest;  he  was  ^animated  with  hope ; he  was  ■‘‘incited 
by  desire : he  walked  swiftly  forward  over  the  valleys 
and  saw  the  hills  '‘‘gradually  rising  before  him. 

2.  As  he  passed  along,  his  ears  were  delighted  with 
the  morning  song  of  the  bird  of  paradise ; he  was  fanned 
by  the  last  flutters  of  the  sinking  breeze,  and  sprinkled 
with  dew  by  groves  of  spices ; he  sometimes  ‘‘‘contem- 
plated  the  ‘‘‘towering  hight  of  the  oak,  monarch  of  the 
hills ; and  sometimes  caught  the  gentle  ‘‘‘fragrance  of  the 
♦■primrose,  eldest  daughter  of  the  spring:  all  his  senses 
svere  gratified,  and  all  care  was  banished  from  his  heart. 

3.  Thus  he  went  on,  till  the  sun  approached  his  ‘‘‘meri- 
dian, and  the  increasing  heat  preyed  upon  his  strength  ; 
he  then  looked  round  about  him  for  some  more  ‘‘‘commo- 
dious path.  He  saw,  on  his  right  hand,  a grove  that 
seemed  to  wave  its  shades  as  a sign  of  ‘‘‘invitation ; ho 
entered  it,  and  found  the  coolness  and  verdure  ‘‘‘irresisti- 
bly  pleasant.  He  did  not,  however,  forget  whithev  he 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


241 


M’as  traveling,  but  found  a narrow  way,  bordered  with 
flowers,.which  appeared  to  have  the  same  direction  with 
the  main  road,  and  was  pleaded,  that,  by  this  happy 
'^'experiment,  he  had  found  means  to  unite  pleasure  with 
business,  and  to  gain  the  rewards  of  '^diligence  without 
‘^’suffering  its  '^fatigues. 

4.  He,  therefore,  still  continued  to  walk  for  a time, 
without  the  least  remission  of  his  ardor,  except  that  he 
was  sometimes  tempted  to  stop  by  the  music  of  the  birds, 
which  the  heat  had  assembled  in  the  shade,  and  some- 
times amused  himself  with  plucking  the  flowers  that 
covered  the  banks  on  each  side,  or  the  fruits  that  hung 
upon  the  branches.  At  last,  the  green  path  began  to 

decline  from  its  first  '^'tendency,  and  to  wind  among  the 
nills  and  thickets,  cooled  with  fountains,  and  '‘'murmur- 
ing  with  '^'waterfalls. 

5.  Here  Obidali  paused  for  a time,  and  began  to  con- 
sider, whether  it  was  longer  safe  to  forsake  the  known 
and  common  track ; but,  remembering  that  the  heat  was 
now  in  its  greatest  violence,  and  that  the  plain  was 
dusty  and  uneven,  he  resolved  to  pursue  the  new  path, 
which  he  supposed  only  to  make  a few  meanders,  in 
compliance  with  the  varieties  of  the  ground,  and  to  end 
at  last  in  the  common  road. 

6.  Having  thus  calmed  his  '^solicitude,  he  renewed  his 
pace,  though  he  suspected  he  was  not  gaining  ground. 
This  uneasiness  of  his  mind  inclined  him  to  lay  hold  on 
every  new  object,  and  give  way  to  every  '^sensation  that 
might  soothe  or  divert  him.  He  listened  to  every  '*'echo, 
he  mounted  every  hill  for  a fresh  prospect,  he  turned 
aside  to  every  '’'cascade,  and  pleased  himself  with  tracing 
the  course  of  a gentle  river,  that  rolled  among  the  trees, 
and  watered  a large  region,  with  '’'innumerable  circum- 
Tolutions. 

7.  In  these  amusements,  the  hours  passed  away  un- 
counted; his  deviations  had  '’'perplexed  his  memory,  and 
he  knew  not  toward  what  point  to  travel.  He  stood 
’■pensive  and  confused,  afraid  to  go  forward  lest  ho 
should  go  wrong,  yet  conscious  that  the  time  of  '’'loitering 

5th  R.— 21  ‘ 


242 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


was  now  past.  While  he  was  thus  tortured  with  uncer- 
tainty, the  sky  was  overspread  with  clouds,  the  day 
vanished  from  before  him,  and  a sudden  tempest  gath- 
ered round  his  head. 

8.  lie  was  now  roused,  by  his  danger,  to  a quick  and 
painful  remembrance  of  his  folly ; he  now  saw  how  hap- 
piness is  lost  when  ease  is  consulted;  he  lamented  the 
unmanly  f impatience  that  ^prompted  him  to  seek  shelter 
in  the  grove,  and  despised  the  petty  curiosity  that  led 
him  on  from  trifle  to  trifle.  While  he  was  thus  reflect- 
ing, tlie  air  grew  blacker,  and  a clap  of  thunder  broke 
his  meditation. 

9.  He  now  resolyed  to  do  what  remained  yet  in  his 
power ; to  tread  back  the  ground  which  he  had  passed, 
and  try  to  find  some  "tissue,  Vvdiere  the  wood  might 
open  into  the  plain.  He  '^'prostrated  himself  upon  the 
ground,  and  commended  his  life  to  the  Lord  of  nature. 
He  rose  with  “^confidence  and  '^tranquillity,  and  pressed 
on  with  his  saber  in  his  hand ; for  the  beasts  of  tlve 
desert  were  in  motion,  and  on  every  hand  were  heard 
the  mingled  howls  of  rage,  and  fear,  and  “^ravage,  and 
expiration  : all  the  horrors  of  darkness  and  solitude  sur 
rounded  him  ; the  winds  roared  in  the  woods,  and  the 
'^'torrents  tumbled  from  the  hills. 

10.  Thus,  forlorn  and  distressed,  he  wandered  through 
the  wild,  without  knowing  whither  he  was  going,  or 
whether  he  was  every  moment  drawing  nearer  to  safety 
or  to  “^destruction.  At  length,  not  fear,  but  labor,  began 
to  overcome  him;  his  breath  grew  short,  and  his  knees 
trembled,  and  he  was  on  the  point  of  lying  down,  in 
“^resignation  to  his  fate,  when  he  beheld,  through  the 
brambles,  the  glimmer  of  a taper.  He  advanced  toward 
the  light,  and  finding  that  it  proceeded  from  the  '^'cottagG 
of  a hermit,  he  called  humbly  at  the  door,  and  obtained 
admission.  The  old  man  set  before  him  such  provision? 
as  he  had  collected  for  himself,  on  which  Obidah  fed  • 
with  “’'eagerness  and  “’'gratitude. 

11.  When  the  repast  was  over,  “Tell  me,”  said  the 
hermit,  “by  what  chance  thou  hast  been  brought  hither; 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


24c.' 


1 have  been  now  twenty  years  an  '•'inhabitant  of  this 
wilderness,  in  which  I never  saw  a man  before.”  Obidah 
then  related  the  '•'occurrences  of  his  journey,  without 
any  concealment  or  palliation. 

12.  “ Son,”  said  the  hermit,  “ let  the  errors  and  follies, 
the  dangers  and  escapes,  of  this  day,  sink  deep  into 
your  heart.  Eemember,  my  son,  that  human  life  is  the 
journey  of  a day.  We  rise  in  the  morning  of  youth, 
full  of  vigor,  and  full  of  '•'expectation;  we  set  forward 
with  spirit  and  hope,  with  '•'gayety  and  with  diligence, 
and  travel  on  awhile  in  the  straight  road  of  piety, 
toward  the  mansions  of  rest.  In  a short  time  we  remit 
our  fervor,  and  endeavor  to  find  some  mitigation  of  our 
duty,  and  some  more  easy  means  of  obtaining  the  same 
end. 

13.  “ We  then  relax  our  vigor,  and  resolve  no  longer 
to  be  terrified  with  crimes  at  a distance,  but  rely  upon 
our  own  constancy,  and  venture  to  approach  what  we 
resolve  never  to  touch.  We  thus  enter  the  bowers  of 
ease,  and  repose  in  the  shades  of  security.  Here  the 
heart  softens,  and  '•'vigilance  '•'subsides : we  are  then  wil- 
ling to  inquire  whether  another  advance  can  not  be 
made,  and  whether  we  may  not,  at  least,  turn  our  eyes 
upon  the  gardens  of  pleasure.  We  approach  them  with 
'•’scruple  and  hesitation  ; we  enter  them,  but  enter  ttim- 
orous  and  trembling,  and  always  hope  to  pass  through 
them  without  losing  the  road  of  virtue,  which  we,  for 
awhile,  keep  in  our  sight,  and  to  which  we  propose  to 
return. 

14.  “But  temptation  succeeds  temptation,  and  one 
■•‘compliance  prepares  us  for  another;  we,  in  time,  lose 
the  happiness  of  innocence,  and  solace  our  disquiet  with 
sensual  gratifications.  By  degi;ees  we  let  fall  the  '•'re- 
membrance of  our  '•'original  intention,  and  quit  the  only 
adequate  object  of  rational  desire.  We  entangle  our- 
selves in  business,  immerge  ourselves  in  luxury,  and  rove 
through  the  labyrinths  of '•'inconstancy,  till  the  darkness 
of  old  age  begins  to  invade  us,  and  disease  and  anxiety 
obstruct  our  way.  We  then  look  back  upon  our  lives 


2U 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


witli  liorror,  with  sorrow,  and  with  repentance:  and 
wish,  but  too  often  vainly  wish,  that  we  had  not  for- 
saken the  paths  of  virtue. 

15.  “ Happy  are  they,  my  son,  who  shall  learn,  from 
thy  example,  not  to  despair,  but  shall  remember,  that, 
though  the  day  is  past,  and  their  strength  is  wasted, 
there  yet  remains  one  effort  to  be  made  ; that  '♦'reforma- 
tion is  never  hopeless,  nor  sincere  '♦'endeavors  ever  unas- 
sisted ; that  the  wanderer  may  at  length  return,  after 
all  his  errors.  And  that  he,  who-'^'miplores  strength  and 
courage  from  above,  shall  find  danger  and  difficulty  give 
way  before  him.  Go  now,  my  son,  to  thy  repose ; com- 
mit thyself  to  the  care  of  '♦'Omnipotence  ; and,  when  the 
morning  calls  again  to  toll,  begin  anew  thy  journey  and 
thy  life.” 


LESSON 


l.  Shaft;  n.  tlie  body  of  a column. 
1.  Arch^-i-trave  ; n,  (pro.  ar¥- 
e-trave)  that  part  which  rests 
immediately  upon  the  column. 

1 . Vault  ; n.  an  arched  roof. 

2.  Swayed  ; v.  moved,  waved  back 

and  forth. 

3.  Sanct-'-u-a-ries  ; n.  places  set 

apart  for  the  worship  of  God. 

5.  Shrine  ; n.  a box  for  sacred 

relics,  here  a place  for  wor- 
shiping God. 

6.  Fan-tas^-tic  ; adj.  whimsical. 


LXXIly 

y 

8.  Wells;  v.  issues  forth  as  wa- 
ter from  the  earth. 

9.  An-ni^-hi-la-ted  ; v.  reduced 
to  nothing. 

9.  CoR^-o-NAL ; n.  a crown,  a 
\wreath. 

9.  Glare  ; n.  a dazzling  light. 

10.  Em-a-na^-tion  ; n;  that  which 
proceeds  from  any  source. 

13.  Arch;  adj.  chief,  principal. 

16.  El^-e-men^s  ; n.  in  popular 
language  fire,  air,  earth,  and 
water. 


GOffS  FIRST  TEMPLES. 

Pronounce  correctly.  Ere,  pro.  a-er.  Do  not  say 
an-thums  for  an-thems  ; of-fud  for  of-fe^^’d  ; ann-cient  for  an-cient ; 
lid-ore  for  a-dore  ; un-lg  for  on-ly. 

1.  The  groves  were  God’s  first  temples*  Ere  man 
learrfed 

To  ’new  the  shaft,  and  lay  the  architrave, 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


245 


And  spread  the  roof  above  them ; ere  he  framed 
The  lofty  vault,  to  gather  and  roll  back 
The  sound  of  ^anthems  ; in  the  darkling  wood. 
Amid  the  cool  and  silence,  he  knelt  down 
And  offered  to  the  Mightiest  solemn  thanks 
And  ^supplication. 

2.  For  his  simple  heart 

Might  not  resist  the  sacred  ^influences. 

That,  from  the  stilly  twilight  of  the  place. 

And  from  the  gray  old  trunks,  that  high  in  heaven 
Mingled  their  mossy  boughs,  and  from  the  sound 
Of  the  ^invisible  breath,  that  swayed  at  once 
All  their  green  tops,  stole  over  him,  and  bowed 
His  spirit  with  the  thought  of  boundless  Power 
And  '^inaccessible  Majesty. 

3 Ah,  why 

Should  we,  in  the  world’s  riper  years,  neglect 

God’s  ancient  sanctuaries,  and  adore 

Only  among  the  crowd,  and  under  roofs 

That  '’'our  frail  hands  have  raised ! Lot  me,  at  least, 

Here,  in  the  shadow  of  this  aged  wood. 

Offer  one  hymn  ; thrice  happy,  if  it  find 
■’'Acceptance  in  His  ear. 

4 Father,  thy  hand 

Hath  reared  these  venerable  '’'columns.  Thou 
Didst  weave  this  ’’'verdant  roof.  Thou  didst  look 
down 

Upon  the  naked  earth,  and,  forthwith,  rose 
All  these  fair  ranks  of  trees.  They,  in  thy  sun 
Eudded,  and  shook  their  green  leaves  in  thy  breeze 
And  shot  toward  heaven. 

5 The  century -living  crow. 

Whose  birth  was  in  their  tops,  grew  old  and  died 
Among  their  branches ; till,  at  last,  they  stood. 

As  now  they  stand,  '’'massy,  and  tall,  and  dark, 

Fit  shrine  for  humble  worshiper  to  hold 
■’’Communion  with  his  Maker. 


246 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


6.  Here  are  seen 

No  traces  of  man’s  pomp,  or  pride  ; no  silks 
Hustle,  no  jewels  shine,  nor  envious  eyes 
■^'Encounter ; no  fantastic  carvings  show 
The  boast  of  our  vain  race  to  change  the  form 
Of  thy  fair  works. 

7.  But  thou  art  here  ; thou  fill’st 
The  solitude.  Thou  art  in  the  soft  winds. 

That  run  along  the  ^summits  of  these  trees 
In  music  ; thou  art  in  the  cooler  breath. 

That,  from  the  inmost  darkness  of  the  place. 

Comes,  scarcely  felt ; the  barky  trunks,  the  ground, 
The  fresh,  moist  ground,  are  all  instinct  with  thee. 
Here  is  continual  worship  ; nature,  here, 

In  the  ’^tranquillity  that  thou  dost  love, 

Enjoys  thy  presence. 

8 Noiselessly,  around. 

From  perch  to  perch,  the  solitary  bird 

Passes ; and  yon  clear  spring,  that,  ’mid  its  herbs, 
Wells  softly  forth,  and  visits  the  strong  roots 
Of  half  the  mighty  forest,  tells  no  tale 
Of  all  the  good  it  does. 

9 Thou  hast  not  left 

Thyself  without  a witness,  in  these  shades. 

Of  thy  perfections.  Grandeur,  strength,  and  grace, 
Are  here  to  speak  of  thee.  This  mighty  oak. 

By  whose  *^immovable  stem  I stand,  and  seem 
Almost  annihilated,  not  a prince. 

In  all  the  proud  old  world  beyond  the  deep. 

E’er  wore  his  crown  as  '^'loftily  as  he 
Wears  the  green  coronal  of  leaves,  with  which 
Thy  hand  has  graced  him.  Nestled  at  his  root 
I^eauty,  such  as  blooms  not  in  the  glare 
Of  the  broad  sun. 

10.  That  delicate  forest  flower. 

With  scented  breath,  and  look  so  like  a smile, 

Seems,  as  it  issues  from  the  shapeless  mold 
An  emanation  of  the  indwelling  Life, 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


247 


A visible  token  of  the  upholding  Love, 

That  are  the  soul  of  this  wide  '*'uni  verse. 

1 1 My  heart  is  awed  within  me,  when  I think 
Of  the  great  '^miracle  that  still  goes  on, 

In  silence,  round  me ; the  perpetual  work 
Of  thy  creation,  finished,  yet  renewed 
Forever.  Written  on  thy  works,  I read 
The  lesson  of  thy  own  ^eternity. 

12.  Lol  all  grow  old  and  die:  but  sec,  again, 

How  on  the  faltering  footsteps  of  decay 
Youth  presses,  ever  gay  and  beautiful  youth, 

In  all  its  beautiful  forms.  These  lofty  trees 
Wave  not  less  proudly,  that  their  '^ancestors 
Molder  beneath  them.  Oh,  there  is  not  lost 
One  of  earth’s  charms:  upon  her  bosom  yet. 

After  the  flight  of  untold  centuries. 

The  freshness  of  her  far  beginning  lies. 

And  yet  shall  lie. 

13.  Life  mocks  the  idle  hate 

Of  his  arch  enemy.  Death;  yea,  seats  himself 
Upon  the  ^sepulcher,  and  blooms  and  smiles; 

And  of  the  triumphs  of  his  "^ghastly  foe 
Makes  his  own  '^nourishment.  For  he  came  forth 
From  thine  own  bosom,  and  shall  have  no  end. 

14  There  have  been  holy  men,  who  hid  themselves 
Deep  in  the  woody  wilderness,  and  gave 
Their  lives  to  thought  and  prayer,  till  they  outlived 
The  ■^■generation  born  with  them,  nor  seemed 
Less  aged  than  the  hoary  trees  and  rocks 
Around  them;  and  tlmre  have  been  holy  men. 

Who  deemed  it  were  not  well  to  pass  life  thus. 

But  let  me  often  to  these  '^'solitudes 
Eetire,  and  in  thy  presence,  ■^reassure 
My  feeble  virtue.  Here,  its  enemies. 

The  passions,  at  thy  plainer  footsteps,  shrink, 

And  tremble,  and  are  still. 


248 

15. 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


Oil  God  I wlien  thou 
Dost  scare  the  world  with  tempests,  set  on  fire 
The  heavens  with  falling  ^thunderbolts,  or  fill 
With  all  the  waters  of  the  '^'firmament. 

The  swift,  dark  whirlwind,  that  uproots  the  woods 
And  drowns  the  villages;  when,  at  thy  call. 

Uprises  the  great  deep,  and  throws  himself 
Upon  the  '^continent,  and  '^'overwhelms 
Its  cities ; who  forgets  not,  at  the  sight 
Of  these  '^'tremendous  tokens  of  thy  power. 

His  pride,  and  lays  his  strifes  and  follies  by? 

16.  Oh,  from  these  sterner  "^aspects  of  thy  face- 
Spare  me  and  mine;  nor  let  us  need  the  wrath 
Of  the  mad,  unchained  elements,  to  teach 
Who  rules  them.  Be  it  ours  to  '^'meditate. 

In  these  calm  shades,  thy  milder  majesty, 

And  to  the  beautiful  order  of  thy  works. 

Learn  to  '^conform  the  order  of  our  lives. 

Questions. — What  are  the  most  ancient  temples  of  worship?  Whai 
meditations  become  the  forest  scenes?  How  are  the  forests  a witness 
for  God  ? What  is  thv^  poetic  measure  of  this  piece  ? 

Parse  “stole,”  in  the  second  paragraph.  “Shrine,”  in  the  fifth  • 
paragraph.  “Encounter,”  in  the  sixth  paragraph.  “Oak,”  in  the 
ninth  paragraph.  Parse  “be,”  the  first  word  of  the  last  sentence  in 
this  lesson.  Parse  “majesty,”  in  the  same  sentence.  Which  are  the 
adjectives  in  this  sentence? 


EXERCISE  XXXIII. 

Fragrance  and  aromatic  odors  every  where.  Frolic  and  gleesome- 
ness  characterized  the  scene.  We  arranged  the  change.  Chance 
and  change  await  all.  Thou  troubPst  thy  father* s friends.  The 
sculptor  has  executed  three  busts.  The  swift,  dark  ivhirlwind  tbai 
uproots  the  woods. 


ECLECTIC  SEKIES. 


249 


LESSON 


2.  Per-son^-1-fied  ; v.  represent- 
ed with  attributes  of  a per- 
son. 

2 Al'-le-gouized  ; v,  turned  into 
an  allegory,  or  a figurative 
description. 

2.^  En-shri^ned  ; v.  preserved  as 
sacred. 

6.  Spon-ta^-ne-ous-ly  ; adv.  of  its 

own  accord. 

7.  Prim^-i-ti VE ; a<^*.  first, original. 

9.  The-o-crat^-ic-al  ; adj.  con- 
ducted by  the  immediate 
agency  of  God.  | 


LXXIII. 


9.  Pu^-Ri-TAN  j n.  a name  given 
to  those  who  separated  from 
the  Church  of  England,  in 
the  days  of  Queen  Elizabeth. 
They  were  so  called  because 
they  professed  to  follow  the 
pure  word  of  God. 

10.  Pen^-ta-teuch  ; n.  (pro.  Pen'- 
/ ta-tuhe)  the  first  five  books 
of  the  Old  Testament. 

IO^Im-bu^ed;  V.  tinged,  dyed^ 
used  figuratively. 

13.  Ar^'-ro-ga-ting  ; v.  claiming 
more  respect  than  is  just. 


CHARACTER  OF  THE  PURITAN  FATHERS  OF  NEW  ENGLAND. 

Articulate  clearly  the  li  and  the  d : high,  heart,  happiness, 
heaven,  hard,  had,  hearken,  here,  have,  happy,  whit,  howling, 
hearth,  whenever,  hypocrites,  seemM,  talked,  mind,  calPd,  prefer'd, 
England,  land,  launchM,  soiPd,  round,  intend. 

1.  One  of  the  most  ^prominent  features  which  dis- 
tinguished our  forefathers,  was  their  determined  +resist- 
ance  to  '’‘oppression.  They  seemed  horn  and  brought 
up,  for  the  high  and  special  purpose  of  showing  to  the 
world  that  the  civil  and  religious  rights  of  man,  the 
rights  of  tself-government,  of  conscience,  and  inde- 
pendent thought,  are  not  merely  things  to  be  talked 
of,  and  woven  into  theories,  but  to  be  adopted  with  the 
whole  strength  and  ardor  of  the  mind,  and  felt  in  the 
profoundest  recesses  of  the  heart,  and  carried  out  into 
the  general  life,  and  made  the  foundation  of  practical 
usefulness,  and  visible  beauty,  and  true  nobility. 

2.  Liberty  xvith  them,  was  an  object  of  too  serious 
desire  and  stern  resolve,  to  be  personified,  allegorized, 
and  enshrined.  They  made  no  goddess  of  it,  as  the 
ancients  did ; they  had  no  time  nor  inclination  for  such 
trifling;  they  felt  that  liberty  was  the  simple  bii*thright 


250 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


of  every  human  creature ; they  called  it  so;  they  claimed 
it  as  such;  they  '^'reverenced  and  held  it  fast  as  the 
^unalienable  gift  of  the  Creator,  which  was  not  to  be 
■^surrendered  to  power,  nor  sold  for  wages. 

3.  It  was  theirs,  as  men;  without  it,  they  did  not 
esteem  themselves  men ; more  than  any  other  '^'privilege 
or  possession,  it  was  "^essential  to  their  happiness,  for  it 
was  essential  to  their  '^'original  nature;  and  therefore 
they  preferred  it  above  wealth,  and  ease,  and  country; 
and  that  they  might  enjoy  and  exercise  it  fully,  they 
forsook  houses,  and  lands,  and  kindred,  their  homes, 
their  native  soil,  and  their  fathers’  graves. 

4.  They  left  all  these;  they  left  England,  which, 
whatever  it  might  have  been  called,  was  not  to  them  a 
land  of  freedom;  they  launched  forth  on  the  pathless 
ocean,  the  wide,  '^fathomless  ocean,  soiled  not  by  the 
earth  beneath,  and  bounded,  all  round  and  above,  only 
by  heaven ; and  it  seemed  to  them  like  that  better  and 
■^'sublimer  freedom,  which  their  country  knew  not,  but 
of  which  they  had  the  conception  and  image  in  their 
hearts  ; and,  after  a ‘^'toilsome  and  painful  voyage,  they 
came  to  a hard  and  wintry  coast,  unfruitful  and  '^'deso- 
late,  but  unguarded  and  boundless ; its  calm  silence  in- 
terrupted not  the  ascent  of  their  prayers;  it  had  no 
eyes  to  watch,  no  ears  to  hearken,  no  tongues  to  report 
of  them;  here,  again,  there  was  an  answer  to  their  soul’s 
desire,  and  they  were  satisfied,  and  gave  thanks;  they 
saw  that  they  were  free,  and  the  desert  smiled. 

5.  I am  telling  an  old  tale ; but  it  is  one  which  must 
be  told  when  we  speak  of  those  men.  It  is  to  be  added, 
that  they  transmitted  their  principles  to  their  children, 
and  that  peopled  by  such  a race,  our  country  was  always 
free..  So  long  as  its  '^'inhabitants  were  "^unmolested  by 
the  mother  country,  in  the  exercise  of  their  important 
rights,  they  submitted  to  the  form  of  English  govern - 
ment;  but  when  those  rights  were  '^'invaded,  they 
spurned  even  the  form  away. 

6.  This  act  was  the  Eevolution,  which  came  of  course, 
and  spontaneously,  and  had  nothing  in  it  of  the  won- 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


251 


derliil  or  unforeseen.  The  wonder  would  liave  been,  if 
it  had  not  occurred.  It  was,  indeed,  a hapj)y  and  glori- 
ous event,  but  by  no  means  unnatural ; and  I intend  no 
slight  to  the  revered  actors  in  the  Eevolution,  when  I 
assort  that  their  fathers  before  them  were  as  free  as 
they — every  whit  as  free. 

7.  The  principles  of  the  Eevolution  were  not  the  sud- 
denly acquired  property  of  a few  bosoms : they  were 
abroad  in  the  land  in  the  ages  before ; they  had  always 
been  taught,  like  the  truths  of  the  Bible ; they  had  de- 
scended from  father  to  son,  down  from  those  primitive 
days,  when  the  tpilgrim  established  in  his  simple  dwell- 
ing, and  seated  at  his  blazing  fire,  piled  high  from  the 
forest  which  shaded  his  door,  repeated  to  his  listening 
children  the  story  of  his  wrongs  and  his  resistance,  and 
bade  them  rejoice,  though  the  wild  winds  and  the  wild 
beasts  were  howling  without,  that  they  had  nothing  to 
fear  from  great  men’s  ‘‘‘oppression. 

8.  Here  are  the  beginnings  of  the  Eevolution.  Every 
settler’s  hearth  was  a school  of '‘‘independence ; the  schol- 
ars were  apt,  and  the  lessons  sunk  deeply ; and  thus  it 
came  that  our  country  was  always  free ; it  could  not  be 
other  than  free. 

9.  As  deeply  seated  as  was  the  principle  of  liberty 
and  resistance  to  arbitrary  power,  in  the  breasts  of  the 
Puritans,  it  was  not  more  so  than  their  piety  and  sense 
of  religious  obligation.  They  were  emphatically  a peo- 
ple whose  God  was  the  Lord.  Their  form  of  government 
was  as  strictly  theocratical,  if  direct  communication  be 
excepted,  as  was  that  of  the  Jews;  insomuch  that  it 
would  be  difficult  to  say,  where  there  was  any  civil 
authority  among  them  entirely  distinct  from  ‘‘‘ecclesias- 
tical ■‘jurisdiction. 

10.  Whenever  a few  of  them  settled  a town,  they 
immediately  gathered  themselves  into  a church ; and 
their  elders  were  ‘‘‘magistrates,  and  their  code  of  laws 
was  the  Pentateuch.  These  were  forms,  it  is  true,  but 
forms  which  faithfully  '‘‘indicated  principles  and  feelings; 
for  no  people  could  have  adopted  such  forms,  who  were 


252 


NEW  FIFTH  HEADER. 


not  thoroughly  imbued  with  the  spirit,  and  bent  on  th« 
practice,  of  religion. 

11.  God  was  their  King;  and  they  regarded  him  as 
truly  and  literally  so,  as  if  he  had  dwelt  in  a visible  pal- 
ace in  the  midst  of  their  state.  They  were  his  devoted, 
'‘‘resolute,  humble  subjects;  they  undertook  nothing 
which  they  did  not  beg  of  him  to  prosper;  they  ‘‘'accom- 
plished nothing  without  rendering  to  him  the  praise; 
they  suffered  nothing  without  carrying  their  sorrows 
to  his  throne;  they  ate  nothing  which  they  did  not 
t implore  him  to  bless. 

12.  Their  piety  was  not  merely  external ; it  was  sin- 
cere ; it  had  the  proof  of  a good  tree  in  bearing  good 
fruit ; it  produced  and  sustained  a strict  morality.  Their 
‘‘‘tenacious  purity  of  manners  and  speech  obtained  for 
them,  in  the  mother  country,  their  name  of  Puritans, 
which,  though  given  in  derision,  was  as  honorable  an 
appellation  as  was  ever  bestowed  by  man  on  man. 

13.  That  there  were  hypocrites  among  them,  is  not  to 
be  doubted ; but  they  were  rare ; the  men  who  volunta- 
rily exiled  themselves  to  an  unknown  coast,  and  endured 
there  every  toil  and  hardship  for  conscience’  sake,  and 
that  they  might  serve  God  in  their  own  manner,  were 
not  likely  to  set  conscience  at  tdefiance,  and  make  the 
service  of  God  a mockery ; they  were  not  likely  to  be, 
neither  were  they,  ‘‘‘hypocrites.  I do  not  know  that  it 
would  be  arrogating  too  much  for  them  to  say,  that,  on 
the  extended  surface  of  the  globe,  there  was  not  a single 
community  of  nien  to  be  compared  with  them,  in  the  re- 
spects of  deep  religious  ‘‘‘impressions  and  an  exact  ‘‘‘per- 
formance of  moral  duty. 

Questions. — How  did  Puritans  regard  liberty  ? What  was  their 
conduct  in  support  of  liberty  ? Why  was  the  revolution  a perfectly 
natural  event,  or  just  what  might  have  been  expected  ? From  whence 
were  derived  the  principles  of  the  revolution  ? How  were  their  sys- 
tems of  government  formed  ? What  was  the  character  of  their  piety? 
As  a community,  how  will  they  bear  comparison,  for  moral  worth, 
with  all  other  communities  past  or  present  ? 

Which  are  the  pronouns  in  the  twelfth  paragraph  ? 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


253 


LESSON  LXXIV.^/ 


y Theme;  n.  a subject  on  which 
a person  writes  or  speaks. 

2.  Gib'-bet-ed;  v.  hanged  and 

exposed  on  a*  gibbet. 

2:  Sev^-ered;  v.  disunited,  se- 
parated. 

RtIs'-to-crat  ; n.  one  who  is 
’ in  favor  of  a government 
placed  in  the  hands  of  a few 
4.  i^en. 

3.  CoN-FED^-ER-A-CY ; 71.  a union 
/ of  states- Or  persons. 


3.  Mon^-arcii-ist  ; n.  one  who  is 
in  favor  of  a kingly  govei  u 
ment. 

^fr^PAR^-Ri-ciDE ; n.  the  destruc- 
tion of  one’s  parent  or  coun- 
try. 

5.''^N-nis^-so-Lu-BLE ; adj.  that  can 
^ not  be  broken  or  separated. 

5."4)em^-a-gogue;  n.  a leader  of 
the  lower  class  of  people. 

7.  Tac^-tics;  n.  the  science  of 
' managing  military  forces. 


DUTY  OF  AN  AMERICAN  ORATOR. 

Remarki — Avoid  the  habit  of  commencing  a sentence  in  a high 
key  and  ending  it  in  a feeble  tone  of  voice. 

Pronounce  correctly.  Do  not  say  sac-rid-niss  for  sa-crid-ness ; 
im-pori-unce  for  im-port-ance  ; or-it-iir  for  or-a-tor  ; il-lus-tr' oiis 
for  il-lus-tri-ous  ; lios-tile  for  hos-tile,  (pro.  lios~til)  ; Eu~ro^-pe~an 
for  Eu-ro-pe^-an. 

1.  One  theme  of  duty  still  remains,  and  I have 

placed  it  alone,  because  of  its  peculiar  dignity,  sacred- 
ness, and  importance.  Need  I tell  you  that  I speak  of 
the  union  of  these  States?  Let  the  American  orator  dis- 
charge all  other  duties  but  this,  if  indeed  it  be  not 
impossible,  with  the  energy  and  eloquence  of  John  Eut- 
ledge,  and  the  disinterested  '^fidmity  of  Eobert  Morris, 
yet  shall  he  be  counted  a traitor,  if  he  attempt  to  dis- 
solve the  Union.  V 

2.  His  name,  '''illustrious  as  it  may  have  been,  shall 
then  be  gibbeted  on  every  hilltop  throughout  the  land, 
a monument  of  his  crime  and  punishment,  and  of  the 
shame  and  grief  of  his  country.  If  indeed  he  believe, 
(and  doubtless  there  maybe  such)  that  wisdom  demands 
the  dissolution  of  the  Union,  that  the  South  should  bo 
severed  from  the  North,  the  West  be  independent  of  the 
East,  lot  him  cherish  the  sentiment,  for  his  own  sake,  in 


254 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


the  solitude  of  his  breast,  or  breathe  it  only  in  the  con 
fidence  of  friendship. 

3.  Let  him  rest  assured,  that  as  his  country  tolerates 
the  monarchist  and  aristocrat  of  the  old  world,  she 
tolerates  him;  but  should  he  plot  the  dismemberment 
of  the  Union,  the  same  trial,  judgment,  and  execution 
await  him  as  would  await  them,  should  they  attempt  to 
establish  the  aristocracy  of  Yenice  or  the  monarchy 
of  Austria,  on  the  ruins  of  our  confederacy.  To  him 

' as  to  them,  she  leaves  freedom  of  speech,  and  the  very 
^'^'licentiousness  of  the  press;  and  permits  them  to  write, 
even  in  the  spirit  of  scorn,  and  hatred,  and  unfair- 
ness. 

Li 

4.  She  trembles  not  at  such  efforts,  ‘^'reckless  and 
hostile  as  they  may  be.  She  smiles  at  their  impotence, 
while  she  mourns  over  their  infatuation.  But  let  them 
lift  the  hand  of  parricide,  in  the  insolence  of  pride  or 
the  madness  of  power,  to  strike  their  country,  and  her 
countenance,  in  all  the  severity  and  terrors  of  a parent’s 
wrath,  shall  smite  them  with  '^amazeihent  and  horror. 
Let  them  strike,  and  ,the  voices  of  millions  of  freemen 
from  the  city  and  '^ha^let,  from  the  college  and  the  farm- 
house, from  the  cabins  amid  the  western  wilds,  and  on 
ships  scattered  around  the  world,  shall  utter  the  stern 
irrevocable  judgment,  self-banishment  for  life,  or  igno- 
minious death. 

5.  Be  it  then  the  noblest  office  of  American  eloquence, 
to  cultivate,  in  the  people  of  every  State,  a deep  and 
fervent  attachment  to  the  Union.  The  Union  is  to  us  the 
marriage  bond  of  States;  indissoluble  in  life,  to  be  dis- 
solved, we  trust,  only  on  that  day  wdien  nations  shall 
die  in  a moment,  never  to  rise  again.  Let  the  American 
orator  discountenance,  then,  all  the  arts  of  intrigue  and 
corruption,  which  not  only  pollute  the  people  and  dis- 
honor republican  institutions,  but  prepare  the  way  for 
the  ruin  of  both;  how  secretly,  how  surely,  let  history 
declare.  ^ Let  him  banish  from  his  thoughts,  and  his  lips, 
the  '^hyp'ocrisy  of  the  demagogue  equally  '’'deceitful  and 
degraded, 


ECLECTIC  SERIES 


255 


With  smootli  dissimulatioDj  skilled  to  grace 
A deviks  purpose,  with  an  angel’s  fiice.” 

6.  Let  that  demagogue  and  those  arts,  his  instru- 
ments of  power,. be  regarded  as  jDretended  friends,  but 
secret  and  dangerous  enemies  of  the  people.  Let  it 
never  be  forgotten  that  to  him  and  them  we  owe  all  the 
licentiousness  and  violence,  all  the  unprincipled  and 
unfeeling  persecution  of  party  spirit.  Let  the  American 
orator  labor,  then,  with  all  the  solemnity  of  a religious 
duty,  with  all  the  intensity  of  filial  love,  to  convince  his 
countrymen  that  the  danger  to  liberty  in  this  country  is 
to  be  traced  to  those  sources.  Let  the  European  trem- 
ble for  his  institutions,  in  th/e  presence  of  military  power 
and  of  the  warrior’s  ambition. 

7.  Let  the  American  dread,  as  the  '‘*ar(3h-enemy  of 
republican  institutions,  the  shock  of  exasperated  parties, 
and  the  implacable  revenge  of  demagogues.  The  dis- 
cipline of  standing  armies,  is  the  terror  of  freedom  in 
Europe ; but  the  tactics  of  parties,  the  standing  armies 
of  America,  are  still  more  formidable  to  liberty  with  us.' 

8.  Let  the  American  orator  frown,  then,  on  that  am- 
bition, which,  pursuing  its  own  *»*aggr^4idizement  and 
gratification,  perils  the  harmony  and  integidty  of  the 
Union,  and  counts  the  grief,  anxiety,  and  ^expostulations 
of  millions,  as  the  small  dust  of  the  balance.  Let  him 
remember,  that  ambition,  like  the  Amruta  cup  of  Indian 
fable,  gives  to  the  virtuous  an  immortality  of  glory 
and  happiness,  but  to  the  corrupt  an  immortality  of 
ruin,  shame,  and  misery. 

9.  Let  not  the  American  orator,  in  the  great  ques- 
tions on  which  Jie  is  to  speak  or  write,  appeal  to  the 
mean  and  '^'grdv^ing  qualities  of  human  nature.  Let 
him  love  the  people,  and. respect  himself  too  much  to 
dishonor  them,  and  '^'degrade  himself,  by  an  api^eal  to 
selfishness  and  prejudice,  to  jealousy,  fear,  and  contempt. 
The  greater  the  interests,  and  the  more  sacred  the  rights 
which  may  be  at  stake,  the  more  resolutely  should  ho 
appeal  to  the  generous  feelings,  the  noble  sentiments, 
the  calm  -^-con  si  derate  wisdom,  which  become  a fico. 


256 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


educated,  peaceful,  Christian  people.  Even  if  ho  battle 
against  criminal  ambition  and  bas^e  intrigue,  let 
his  weapons  be  a logic,^ipLanly,  '’‘'intfepid,  honorable, 
and  an  eloquence  *^mag]4animous,  '♦'disinterested,  and 
spotless. 

10.  ]5ror  is  this  all.  Let  the  American  orator  '♦'compre- 
hend,  and  live  up  to  the  grand  '♦'coife^ption,  that  the 
Union  is  the  property  of  the  world,  no  less  than  of  our- 
selves; that  it  is  a part  of  the  divine  scheme  for  the 
moral  government  of  the  earth,  as  the  ‘♦'^olar  system  is  a 
part  of  the  '♦'m^ctianism  of  the  heavens ; that  it  is  des- 
tined, while  traveling  from  the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific, 
like  the  ascending  sun,  to  shed  its  glorious  influence 
backward  on  the  states  of  Europe,  and  forward  on  the 
empires  of  Asia. 

11.  Let  him  comprehend  its  sublime  relations  to  time 
and  eternity ; to  God  and  man ; to  the  most  precious 
hopes,  the  most  solemn  obligations,  and  the  highest  hap- 
piness of  human  kind  ? And  what  an  eloquence  must 
that  be  whose  source  of  power  aqd  wisdom  are  God 
himself,  the  objects  of  whose  '♦'influence  are  all  the 
nations  of  the  earth;  whose  sphere  of  duty  is  '♦'cd-eitcn- 
sive  with  all  that  is  sublime  in  religion,  beautiful  ig 
morals,  commanding  in  intellect,  and  touching  in  '♦'hu-  ‘ 
manity.  How '♦'comprehensive,  and  therefore  how  wise 
and  '♦'bene'volent,  must  then  be  the  genius  of  American 
eloquence,  compared  to  the  narrow-minded,  narrow- 
hearted,  and  therefore  selfish,  '♦'eloquence  of  Greece  and 
Eome. 

12.  How  striking  is  the  '♦'contrast,  between  the  uni- 
versal, social  spirit  of  the  former,  and  the  individual, 
exclusive  character  of  the  latter.  The  '♦'boundary  of 
this  is  the  horizon  of  a plain;  the  circle  of  that,  the 
'♦'horizon  of  a mountain  '♦'surnmit.  Be  it  then  the  duty 
of  American  eloquence  to  speak,  to  write,  to  act,  in  the 
cause  of  Christianity,  '♦'patriotism,  and  '♦'literature;  in 
the  cause  of  justice,  humanity,  virtue,  and  truth  ; in  the 
cause  of  the  people,  of  the  Union,  of  the  whole  human 
race,  and  of  the  unborn  of  eve'^y  clime  and  age.  Then 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


2? 


shall  American  eloquence,  the  personification  of  truth, 
beauty,  and  love, 

“ walk  the  earth,  that  she  may  hear  her  name 

Still  hymned  and  honored  by  the  grateful  voice 
Of  human  kind,  and  in  her  fame  rejoice.^^ 

Questions. — Wliat  is  the  duty  of  the  American  orator,  as  discussed 
in  this  lesson?  What  is  the  noblest  office  of  American  eloquence? 


LESSON  LXXV./  , 


. CoME^-Li-NESs;  n.  that  which  is 
becoming  or  graceful.  [walk. 
Port;  n.  manner  of  movement  or 
At-tire^;  n.  dress,  clothes. 

Rife;  adj.  prevalent. 

Tar^-nish;  V.  to  soil,  to  sully. 


Fledgs^-ling;  n,  a young  bird. 
Rec-og-ni^-tion;  ?2.  acknowledg- 
ment of  acquaintance. 
Pre-con-cert^-ed  ; v.  planned  be- 
forehand. 

Cai'-tiff;  n.  a mean  villain. 


Av-a-lanche^;  n.  a vast  body  of '^hrall^-dom;  w.  bondage,  slavery, 
snow  sliding  down  from  a moun-  ^can  ; v.  to  examine  closely, 
tain.  Neth'-er;  ad.j,  lower,  lying  be- 

VoucH-sAFE^;  V.  to  yield,  to  conde-  neath. 

scend,  to  give.  ^ ^Blanch;  v,  to  turn  white. 

Net^'-ted;  V.  caught  in  a net.  Gust;  n,  taste,  relish. 


WILLIAM  TELL. 

The  events  here  referred  to  occurred  in  1307.  Switzerland  had 
been  conquered  by  Austria;  and  Geslcr,  one  of  the  basest  and  most 
tyrannical  of  men,  was  her  governor.  As  a refinement  of  tyranny, 
he  had  his  cap  elevated  on  a pole,  and  commanded  that  every  one 
should  bow  before  it.  William  Tell  proudly  refused  to  submit  to  this 
degrading  mark  of  slavery.  He  was  arrested  and  carried  before  the 
governor.  The  day  before,  his  son  Albert,  without  the  knowledge  of 
his  father,  had  fallen  into  the  hands  of  Gesler. 

Give  each  letter  its  full  and  correct  sound.  Do  not  say  gov^nor 
for  gov-em-or;  come-li-^iiss  for  come-li-ness ; e-rec  for  e-rec;{; 
hon-^'er-hle  for  hon-or-a-ble ; hards  for  haneZs ; venge-unce  for 
venge-ance. 

Scene  1. — A Chamber  in  the  Castle,  Enter  Gesler^  Officers^ 
and  Sarnem^  with  Tell  in  chains  and  guarded, 

I Sar.  Down,  slave ! Behold  the  governor. 

Down!  down!  and  beg  for  mercy. 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


^ Ges,  {Seated.)  Does  lie  hear? 

J Sar.  He  does,  but  braves  thy  power. 

C Officer.  Why  don’t  you  smite  him  for  that  look? 

S Ges.  Can  I believe 

My  eyes?  He  smiles!  Hay,  grasps 

His  chains  as  he  would  make  a weapon  of  them 

To  lay  the  smiter  dead.  {To  Tell.) 

Why  speakest  thou  not? 

^ Tell.  For  wonder. 

{'Ges.  Wonder? 

Tell.  Yes,  that  thou  shouldst  seem  a man. 

Ges.  What  should  I seem? 

Tell.  A monster. 

Ges.  Ha  1 Beware  I Think  on  thy  chains. 

Tell.  Though  they  were  doubled,  and  did  weigJi  me 
down 

'^'Prostrate  to  the  earth,  methinks  I could  rise  up 
Erect,  with  nothing  but  the  honest  pride 
Of  telling  thee,  '^‘usurper,  to  thy  teeth. 

Thou  art  a monster!  Think  upon  my  chains? 
How  came  they  on  me? 

Ges.  Barest  thou  question  me? 

Tell.  Barest  thou  not  answer? 

Ges.  Do  I hear? 

^ Tell.  Thou  dost. 

Ges.  Beware  my  tyengeance. 

Tell.  Can  it  more  than  kill  ? 

Ges.  Enough;  it  can  do  that. 

Tell.  Ho;  not  enough: 

It  can  not  take  away  the  grace  of  life ; 

Its  comeliness  of  look  that  virtue  gives ; 

Its  port  '*'erect  with  '^'consciousness  of  truth ; 

Its  rich  attire  of  honorable  deeds ; 

Its  fair  report  that’s  rife  on  good  men’s  tongues: 

It  can  not  lay  its  hands  on  these,  no  more 
Than  it  can  pluck  the  brightness  from  the  sun, 

Or  with  '^'polluted  finger  tarnish  it. 
i#  Ges.  But  it  can  make  thee  '’'writhe. 

Tell.  It  may. 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


259 


Ges.  And  groan. 

• iTell,  It  niay  * and  I may  cry 

Go  on,  though  it  should  make  me  groan  again. 

23  Ges.  Whence  comest  thou? 

^Tell.  From  the  mountains.  Wouldst  thou  learn 
What  news  from  them? 

i^Ges.  Canst  tell  me  any? 

Z^  Tell.  Ay:  they  watch  no  more  the  avalanche. 

Ges.  Why  so? 

^Tell.  Because  they  look  for  thee.  The  *^hurricane 
Comes  Unawares  upon  them;  from  its  bed 
The  torrent  breaks,  and  finds  them  in  its  track. 

3 I Ges.  What  do  they  then  ? 

Tell.  Thank  heaven,  it  is  not  thou ! 

Thou  hast  '^'perverted  nature  in  them. 

There 's  not  a blessing  heaven  vouchsafes  them,  but 
The  thought  of  thee — doth  “^wither  to  a curse. 

Ges.  That ’s  right  I I ’d  have  them  like  their  hills, 

That  never  smile,  though  '^'wanton  summer  tempt 
Them  e’er  so  much. 

^LjTell.  But  they  do  sometimes  smile. 

Q^Ges.  Ay!  when  is  that? 

Tell.  When  they  do  talk  of  vengeance. 

Q y Ges.  Vengeance?  Dare  they  talk  of  that? 

A r Tell.  Ay,  and  expect  it  too. 

Ges.  From  whence? 

l0Tell.  From  heaven! 

'Ges.  From  heaven  ? 

^2jTell.  And  their  true  hands 

Are  lifted  up  to  it  on  every  hi\l 
For  justice  on  thee. 

Ges.  Where ’s  thy  abode? 

V/  Tell.  I told  thee  on  the  mountains. 

^y  Ges.  Art  married? 

^ ^ Tell.  Yes. 

Ges.  And  hast  a family? 

Tell  A son. 

^ Ges.  A son?  Sarnem^ 


260 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


^^'Sar.  My  lord,  the  boy — {Gesler  signs  to  Sarnem  to  keep 
silence^  and^  whispering^  sends  him  off,') 

^ TelL  The  boy?  What  boy? 

Is ’t  mine?  and  have  they  netted  my  young  fledge- 
ling? 

Now  heaven  support  me,  if  they  have!  He  ’ll  own 
me. 

And  share  his  father’s  ruin ! But  a look 
AVould  put  him  on  his  guard;  yet  how  to  give  it! 
Now,  heart,  thy  nerve ; forget  thou  art  flesh,  be  rock. 
They  come,  they  come  I 

That  step — that  step — that  little  step,  so  light. 
Upon  the  ground,  how  heavy  does  it  fall 
Upon  my  heart!  I feel  my  child!  (Enter  Sarnem 
with  Albert^  whose  eyes  are  riveted  on  TelVs  bow 
which  Sarnem  carries), 

’T  is  he ! We  can  but  perish. 

Sar.  See! 

Alb.  What? 

Sar.  Look  there ! 

Alb.  I do,  what  would  you  have  me  see? 

Sar,  Thy  father. 

Alb,  Who?  That — that  my  father  ? 

Tell.  My  boy ! my  boy ! my  own  brave  boy  I 
He ’s  safe!  (Aside), 

Sar.  (Aside  to  Gesler),  They  ’re  like  each  othe5 
Ges.  Yet  I see  no  sign 

Or  recognition  to  betray  the  link 
Unites  a father  and  his  child. 

I Sar,  My  lord, 

I am  sure  it  is  his  father.  Look  at  them. 

It  may  be 

A preconcerted  thing  ’gainst  such  a chance, 

That  they  '^'survey  each  other  coldly  thus. 

Ges.  We  shall  try.  Lead  forth  the  caitiff. 

Sar.  To  a dungeon? 

Ges.  No;  into  the  court. 

Sar.  The  court,  my  lord? 

Ges.  And  send 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


261 


To  tell  the  headsman  to  make  ready.  Quick  I 
The  slave  shall  die!  You  marked  the  boy? 

C 7^^'-  I He  started;  ’tis  his  father. 

^ : Ges,  We  shall  see.  Away  with  him! 

- Tell  Stop ! Stop ! 

- ■ Ges,  What  would  you? 

t Tell.  Time ! A little  time  to  call  my  thoughts  together. 
^ Ges.  Thou  shalt  not  have  a minute. 

Tell.  Some  one,  then,  to  speak  with. 

Ges.  Hence  with  him! 

■'  -'■Tell.  A moment ! Stop ! 

Let  me  speak  to  the  boy. 

Ges.  Is  he  thy  son? 

Tell.  And  if 

He  were,  art  thou  so  lost  to  nature,  as 
To  send  me  forth  to  die  before  his  face? 

Ges.  Well!  speak  with  him. 

How,  Sarnem,  mark  them  well. 

;^,JFell.  Thou  dost  not  know  me,  boy;  and  well  for  thee 
/ Thou  dost  not.  I ’m  the  father  of  a son 
About  thy  age.  Thou, 

I see,  wast  born  like  him,  upon  the  hills; 

If  thou  shouldst  ^scape  thy  present  thralldom,  he 
May  chance  to  cross  thee;  if  he  should,  I pray  thee 
Eelate  to  him  what  has  been  passing  here. 

And  say  I laid  my  hand  upon  thy  head. 

And  said  to  thee,  if  he  were  here,  as  thou  art, 

Thus  would  I bless  him.  Mayst  thou  live,  my  boy  I 
To  see  thy  country  free,  or  die  for  her, 

As  I do  ! (Albert  weeps.') 

Mark!  he  weef)S. 

Tell,  Were  he  my  son, 

^ He  would  not  shed  a tear ! He  would  remember 
The  cliff  where  he  was  bred,  an4  learned  to  scan 
A thousand  fathoms’  depth  of  nether  air ; 

Where  he  was  ‘‘'trained  to  hear  the  thunder  talk, 
And  meet  the  lightning,  eye  to  eye ; where  last 
We  >^poke  together,  when  I told  him  death 


262 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


■•'Bestowed  the  brightest  gem  that  graces  life, 
■•■Embraced  for  virtue’s  sake.  He  shed  a tear  ? 
Now  were  he  by,  I ’d  talk  to  him,  and  his  cheek 
Should  never  blanch,  nor  moisture  dim  his  eye— 
I ’d  talk  to  him — 

■ Sar.  He  falters ! 

TelL  ’T  is  too  much  I 

And  yet  it  must  be  done  I I ’d  talk  to  him 
Ges,  Of  what  ? 

Tell.  The  mother,  tyrant,  thou  dost  make 
A widow  of ! I’d  talk  to  him  of  her. 

I ’d  bid  him  tell  her,  next  to  liberty. 

Her  name  was  the  last  word  my  lips  pronounced. 
And  I would  charge  him  never  to  forget 
To  love  and  ■•■cherish  her,  as  he  would  have 
His  father’s  dying  blessing  rest  upon  him ! 

Sar.  You  see,  as  he  doth  ■•'prompt,  the  other  acts. 

Tell.  So  well  he  bears  it,  he  doth  '•'vanquish  me. 

My  boy  ! my  boy  ! Oh  for  the  hills,  the  hills, 

To  see  him  bound  along  their  tops  again. 

With  liberty. 

Sar.  Was  there  not  all  the  father  in  that  look  ? 

Ges.  Yet ’t  is  ’gainst  nature. 

Sar.  Not  if  he  believes 

To  own  the  son  would  be  to  make  him  shai*e 
The  father’s  death. 

/ Ges.  I did  not  think  of  that  I ’T  is  well 

The  boy  is  not  thy  son.  I ’ve  ’•'destined  him 
To  die  along  with  thee. 

Tell.  To  die  ? For  what  ? 

Ges.  For  having  braved  my  power,  as  thou  hast.  Lead 
them  forth. 

Tell.  He’s  but  a child. 

Ges.  Away  with  them  I 
Tell.  Perhaps  an  only  child. 

Ges.  No  matter. 

Tell.  Ho  may  have  a mother. 


ECLECTIC  SERIES.  263 

^:^  Ges.  So  the  viper  hath  ; 

And  yet,  who  spares  it  for  the  mother’s  sake  ? 

/ I talk  to  stone  I I talk  to  it  as  though 

were  flesh ; and  know ’t  is  none.  I ’ll  talk  to  it 
K^o  more.  Come,  my  boy, 

I taught  thee  how  to  live,  I ’ll  show  thee  how  to  die. 
iGes.  He  is  thy  child  ? 

/ Tell,  He  is  my  child. 

f f Ges,  I ’ve  wrung  a tear  from  him  ! Thy  name  ! 

- Tell,  Hy  name  ? 

It  matters  not  to  keep  it  from  thee  now ; 

My  name  is  Tell. 

- ^es.  Tell?  William  Tell? 
i Tell,  The  same. 

Ges,  What  I he,  so  famed  ’hove  all  his  countrymen. 

For  guiding  o’er  the  stormy  lake  the  boat? 

And  such  a master  of  his  bow,  ’t  is  said 
His  arrows  never  miss  ! Indeed  ! I ’ll  take 
^Exquisite  vengeance  ! Mark ! I ’ll  spare  thy  life ; 
Thy  boy’s  too  ; both  of  you  are  free ; on  one 
Condition. 

Tell,  Name  it. 

Ges,  I would  see  you  make 

A trial  of  your  skill  with  that  same  bow 
You  shoot  so  well  with. 

I jo  Tell.  Hame  the  trial  you 

Would  have  me  make. 

n ! Ges,  You  look  upon  your  boy 

As  though  ^instinctively  you  guessed  it. 

/ Look  upon  my  boy?  What  mean  you?  Look  upon 

My  boy  as  though  I guessed  it?  Guessed  the  trial 
You’d  have  me  make  ? Guessed  it 
Instinctively?  You  do  not  mean — no — no, 

You  would  not  have  me  make  a trial  of 
My  skill  upon  my  child  1 Impossible  I 
I do  not  guess  your  meaning. 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


264 


I would  see 

Thee  hit  an  apple  at  the  distance  of 
A hundred  paces. 

Is  my  boy  to  hold  it? 

No. 

No  ? I’ll  send  the  arrow  through  the  '♦'core  I 
It  is  to  rest  upon  his  head. 

Great  heaven,  you  hear  him  I 
Thou  dost  hear  the  choice  I give : 

Such  trial  of  the  skill  thou  art  master  of, 

Or  death  to  both  of  you ; not  otherwise 
To  be  escaped. 

Oh,  monster ! 

Wilt  thou  do  it  ? 

He  will ! he  will  I 
*^Ferocious  monster  I Make 
A father  murder  his  own  child  1 

Ges.  Take  off  his  chains  if  he  consent. 

Tell,  With  his  own  hand  ? 

Ges,  Hoes  he  consent  ? 

Alb,  He  does.  (Gesler  signs  to  Ms  officers^  who  proceed  to 
take  off  Tells  chains;  Tell  unconscious  what  they 
Tell,  With  his  own  hand  ? [do. 

Murder  his  child  with  his  own  hand?  This  hand  ? 
The  hand  I ’ve  led  him,  when  an  infant,  by  ? 

’ Tis  beyond  horror ! ’ T is  most  horrible  I 

Amazement ! (Sis  chains  fall  off,')  What’s  that 
you ’ve  done  to  me  ? 

Villians ! put  on  my  chains  again.  My  hands 
Are  free  from  blood,  and  have  no  gust  for  it. 

That  they  should  drink  my  child’s  ! Here  ! here ! 
I’ll  not 

Murder  my  boy  for  Gesler. 

Alb,  Father ! Father ! 

You  will  npt  hit  me,  father! 

Tell,  Hit  thee?  Send 

The  arrow  through  thy  brain  ? Or,  missing  that, 


t Tell. 
U'TGes. 
■J  Tell. 
(hGes. 

Tell. 
I IC^  Ges. 


Tell. 

Ges. 

Alb. 

Tell. 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


265 


Shoot  out  an  eye  ? Or,  if  tliino  cyo  escape, 
■♦■Mangle  the  cheek  I’ve  seen  thy  mother’s  lips 
^ Cover  with  kisses?  Hit  thee?  Hit  a hair 
Of  thee,  and  ■♦'eleavo  thy  mother’s  heart  ? 

Ges.  Dost  thou  consent? 

Tell.  Give  me  my  bow  and  quiver. 

Ges.  For  what  ? 

Tell.  To  shoot  my  boy ! 

Alh.  Ho,  father,  no  ! 

To  save  me  ! You  ’ll  be  sure  to  hit  the  apple. 

Will  you  not  save  me,  father  ? 

Tell.  Lead  me  forth ; 

I ’ll  make  the  trial ! 

Alh.  Thank  you ! 

Tell.  Thank  me  ? Do 

You  know  for  what?  I will  not  make  the  trial.. 

To  take  him  to  his  mother  in  my  arms  ! 

And  lay  him  down  a '♦'corse  before  her  ! 

Ges.  Then  he  dies  this  moment,  and  you  certainly 
Do  murder  him  whose  life  you  have  a ehance 
To  save,  and  will  not  use  it. 

Tell.  Well,  I’ll  do  it ; I ’ll  make  the  trial. 

Alh.  Father  I 

Tell.  Speak  not  to  me: 

Let  me  not  hear  thy  voice  : thou  must  bo  dumb  ; 
And  so  should  all  things  be.  Earth  should  be  dumb, 
And  heaven — unless  its  thunders  muttered  at 
The  deed,  and  sent  a bolt  to  stop  it  I Give  me 
My  bow  and  quiver ! 

Ges.  When  all ’s  ready. 

Tell.  Well,  lead  on  ! 

Questions. — Why  does  Gesler  express  joy  that  his  subjects  are 
unhappy?  Why  does  Albert  appear  not  to  recognize  his  father?  Why 
loes  Tell  at  last  acknowledge  Albert? 

Parse  the  first  two  words  in  this  lesson.  Parse  “to  shoot  ” on  the 
/ast  page.  “To  save’’  on  the  same.  “To  take”  and  “lay.” 

5th  R.-^23 


2G6 


new  fifth  headek. 


LESSON  LXXVl/^^ 


Is^-SUE  5 71.  event,  consec[uence. 
Stanch;  adj.  sound,  strong. 
Jao''-ged;  V.  notched,  uneven. 


Shaft  ; n.  the  stem,  the  body. 
^-Quiv^-er;  n.  a case  for  arrows. 
^,Per^-il;  n,  danger. 


WILLIAM  TELL.— Continued. 

Remark—Do  not  slide  over  the  little  ^rords,  nor  omit  any  syllable 
of  a word. 

Sound  each  letter  distinctly  and  Correctly.  Do  not  say  loolc-nz 
for  look-ers ; smirl'n-hj  for  smi-Ziny-ly ; rev-runce  for  rev-er-ence ; 
stidry  for  stead-y. 

Scene  2. — Eriter  slowly,  people  in  evident  distress  Officers, 
Sarnem,  Gesler,  Tell,  Albert,  and  soldiers— one  bearing 
TelVs  bow  and  quiver — another  with  a basket  of  apples. 
Ges.  That  is.  your  ground.  Now  shall  they  measure 
thence 

A hundred  paces.  Take  the  distance. 

Tell.  Is  the  line  a true  one? 

Ges.  True  or  not,  what  is ’t  to  thee  ? 

Tell.  What  is ’t  to  me  ? A little  thing, 

A very  little  thing ; a yard  or  two 
Is  nothing  here  or  there — were  it  a wolf 
I shot  at ! Never  mind. 

Ges.  Be  thankful,  slave. 

Our  grace  '^'accords  thee  life  on  any  teims. 

Tell.  I will  be  thankful,  Gesler ! +Villain,  stop  1 
You  measure  to  the  sun. 

Ges.  And  what  of  that  ? 

What  matter  whether  to  or  from  the  sun? 

Tell.  I ’d  have  it  at  my  back.  The  sun  should  shine 
Upon  the  mark,  and  not  on  him  that  shoots. 

I can  not  see  to  shoot  against  the  sun . 

I will  not  shoot  against  the  sun  ! 

Oes.  Give  him  his  way  I Tliou  hast  cause  to  bless  my 
mercy. 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


267 


TelL  1 shall  remember  it.  I ’d  like  to  see 
The  apple  I ’m  to  shoot  at. 

Ges.  Stay!  show  me  the  basket  I there! 

Tell.  Yon  Ve  picked  the  smallest  one. 

Ges.  I know  I have. 

Tell,  Oh,  do  you  ? But  you  see 

The  color  of ’t  is  dark : I ’d  have  it  light, 

To  see  it  better. 

Ges.  Take  it  as  it  is; 

Thy  skill  will  be  the  gTeater  if  thou  hitt’st  it. 

Tell.  True  ! true!  I did  not  think  of  that;  I wonder 
I did  not  think  of  that.  Give  me  some  chance 
To  save  my  boy!  {Throws  away  the  apple  with  all 
I will  not  murder  him,  [his  force.') 
If  I can  helpdt;  for  the  honor  of 
The  form  thou  wearest,  if  all  the  heart  is  gone. 

Ges.  "Well : choose  thyself. 

Tell,  Have  I a friend  among  the  lookers  on  ? 

Verner.  (Bushing  forward.)  Here,  Tell. 

Tell.  I thank  thee,  Yerner  ! 

He  is  a frietid  runs  out  into  a storm 
To  shake  a hand  with  us.  I must  be  ‘’'brief. 

When  once  the  bow  is  bent,  wo  can  not  take 
The  shot  too  soon.  Yernei*,  whatever  be 
The  issue  of  this  hour,  the  common  cause 
Must  not  stand  still.  Let  not  to-morrow’s  sun 
Set  on  the  '’'tyrant’s  banner ! Verner ! Yerner  ! 
The  boy ! the  boy  ! Thinl^est  thou  he  hath  the 
tcourage 
To  stand  it  ? 

Ver.  Yes. 

Tell.  Does  he  tremble  ? 

Ver.  Ho. 

Tell.  Art  sure  ? 

Ver.  I am. 

Tell.  How  looks  he  ? 

Ver.  Clear  and  smilingly. 

If  you  doubt  it,  look  yourself. 


268  NEW  FIFTH  READER. 

Tell.  No,  no,  my  friend  : 

To  hear  it  is  enough. 

Ver.  He  hears  himself  so  much  above  his  years — 

Tell.  I know ! I know  ! 

Ver.  With  ^constancy  so  modest — 

Tell.  I was  sure  he  would — 

Ver.  And  looks  with  such  relying  love 
And  "^reverence  upon  you — 

Tell  Man  ! Man  I Man  I 

No  more  ! Already"  I ’m  too  much  the  father 
To  act  the  man ! Yerner,  no  more,  my  friend ! 

I would  be  flint — flint — flint.  Don’t  make  me  feel 
I’m  not — do  not  mind  me ! Take  the  boy 
And  set  him,  Yerner,  with  his  back  to  me. 

Set  him  upon  his  knees,  and  place  this  apple 
Upon  his  head,  so  that  the  stem  may  front  me. 
Thus,  Yerner;  charge  him  to  keep  steady;  tell  him 
I ’ll  hit  the  apple!  Yerner,  do  all  this 
More  '‘'briefly  than  I tell  it  thee. 

Ver.  Come,  Albert!  (Leading  him  out.) 

Alb.  May  I not  speak  with  him  before  I go? 

Ver.  No. 

Alb.  I would  only  kiss  his  hand. 

Ver.  You  must  not. 

Alb.  I must;  I can  not  go  from  him  without. 

Ver.  It  is  his  will  you  should. 

Alb.  His  will,  is  it? 

1 am  content,  then  ; come. 

Tell.  My  boy ! (Holding  out  his  arms  to  him.) 

ilb.  My  father!  (Rushing  into  TelVsarms.) 

Tell.  If  thou  canst  bear  it,  should  not  I?  Go  now, 

My  son ; and  keep  in  mind  that  I can  shoot ; 

Go  boy;  be  thou  but  steady,  I will  hit 

The  apple.  Go  ! God  bless  thee;  go.  My  bow! 

( The  bow  is  handed  to  him.) 
Thou  wilt  not  fail  thy  master,  wilt  thou?  Thou 
Hast  never  failed  him  yet,  old  servant.  No, 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


269 


I ’m  sure  of  thee.  I know  thy  honesty, 

Thou  art  stanch,  stanch.  X;et  me  see  my  (j^uiver. 
Ges.  Give  him  a single  arrow. 

Tell.  Do  you  shoot? 

Soldier.  I do. 

Tell.  Is  it  so  you  pick  an  arrow,  friend? 

The  point,  you  see,  is  bent  ] the  feather,  jagged. 
That  8 all  the  use  t is  fit  for.  (^JBreaks 

Ges.  Let  him  have  another. 

Tell.  Why,  ’tis  better  than  the  first. 

But  yet  not  good  enough  for  such  an  aim 
As  I ’m  to  take.  ’T  is  heavy  in  the  shaft ; 

1 not  shoot  with  it ! (^Throws  it  away.)  Let  me 
see  my  quiver. 

Bring  it ! ’T  is  not  one  arrow  in  a dozen 
I’d  take  to  shoot  with  at  a dove,  much  less 
A dove  like  that. 

Ges.  It  matters  not. 

Show  him  the  quiver. 

Tell  See  if  the  boy  is  ready. 

{Tell  here  hides  an  arrov)  under  his  vest.) 

Ver.  He  is. 

Tell  I ’m  ready  too ! Keep  silent,  for 

Heaven  s sake,  and  do  not  stir  j and  let  me  have 
Your  prayers,  your  prayers,  and  be  my  ^witnesses 
That  if  his  life’s  in  peril  from  my  hand,  • 

T is  only  for  the  chance  of  r saving  it. 

<?es.  Goon.  {To  the  people.-) 

Tell  I will. 

Oh  friends,  for  mercy’s  sake  keep  ^motionless, 
and  silent.  {Tell  shoots.  A shout  of  exultation 
bursts  from  the  crowd.  TelVs  head  drops  on  his 
bosom;  he  with  difficulty  supports  himself  on  his 
bow.) 

Ver.  {Rushing  in  with  Albert.)  The  boy  is  safe,  no  hair 
of  h im  is  touched. 

Alb.  Father,  I ’m  safe.  Your  Albert’s  safe,  dear  father; 
Speak  to  me  I Speak  to  me ! 


270 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


Ver,  Ho  can  not,  boy  ! 

Alh,  You  grant  him  life? 

Ges,  I do. 

Alh,  And  we  are  free  ? 

Ges.  Y^ou  are.  (^Crossing  angrily  behind.) 

Alb.  Open  his  vest, 

And  give  him  air.  (^Albert  opens  his  father's  vest, 
and  the  arrow  drops.  Tell  starts,  fixes  his  eyes 
on  Albert  and  clasps  him  to  his  breast.) 

Tell.  My  boy  ! My  boy  ! 

Ges.  For  what 

Hid  you  that  arrow  in  your  breast  ? Speak  slave  I 
Tell.  To  kill  thee,  tyrant,  had  I slain  my  boy  ! * 

Questions — ^Relate  this  whole  story. 


■^Notwithstanding  GesleFs  promise,  Tell  was  again  loaded  with 
chains  and  confined  in  prison.  Succeeding,  however,  in  making  his 
escape,  he  soon  afterward  shot  Gesler  through  the  heart,  and  thus 
freed  his  country  from  the  most  galling  bondage.  His  memory  is,  to 
this  day,  cherished  in  Switzerland,  as  that  of  one  of  the  most  heroic 
defenders  of  liberty. 


EXERCISE  XXXIY. 

They  slacldn^d  the  cable.  Thy  pulse  throobs  loildly.  Thou 
proVst  the  wound  painfully.  He  siruggVd  to  escape.  Thou 
thinldst  and  tlvuback'st,  and  thwacldst  and  tliinldst. 

The  shrill  trump  of  victory.  We  scrambled  up  the  hill.  Scrib- 
blers scrawl  strange  stories.  Diamonds  scratch  glass.  They  furVd 
the  sails.  Ilis  chains  clanked.  He  handles  the  instruments  skill- 
fully.  The  blue  waves  curVd.  We  were  unharmed  amid  the  confiici 
of  elements. 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


271 


LESSON  LXXVII. 


I.  Top^-ics,  n subjects  of  dis- 
course. 

2 Germ^-in-a-ted  ; v.  sprouted, 
began  to  grow. 

1 Tkans-cend^-ext  ; adj.  surpass- 
ing all,  very  excellent. 

4.  Dru-id^-ic- AL ; adj.  belonging 


to  the  time  of  the  Druids. 
These  were  the  ancient  priests 
of  great  Britain. 

10.  Co-Los^-SAL,  adj.  very  large. 

11.  Em-bod^-i-ment  ; w.  a union 
in  one  body. 

12.  FerM^id;  acy.  burning. 


EUROPE  AND  AMERICA— -Y/ABHINGTON. 

[Extract  from  an  address  delivered  by  Daniel  Webster  at  the  cele- 
bration of  the  completion  of  the  Bunker  liill  Monument,  June  17,  ^43.] 

Remark. — Let  the  pupil  stand  at  a distance  from  the  teacher,  and 
then  try  to  read  so  loud  and  distinctly  that  the  teacher  may  hear  each 
syllable. 

Utter  each  sound  correctly  and  distinctly.  Do  not  say  in-vi-f  n 
for  in-vi-ting  ; pliil-sopJdc'l  for  phil-o-soph-ic-al in-flu-unce  ' {ox 
in-flu-ence  ; re-spec  for  re-spec^  for  de-scend-an^s  ; 

cxil-ier  nor  ciil-tsliure  for  cult-wre,  (pro.  ciilt-yiir)\  mince  for  min^s  ; 
pop-py-lar  for  pop-i^-lar ; lane  for  kinrt! ; his-f  ry  for  his-to-r}". 

1.  Few  topics  are  more  inviting,  or  more  fit  for  '^’pbilo- 
sopliical  discussion,  than  the  action  and  indnence  of 
the  Xew  World  upon  the  Old  ; or  the  contributions  of 
America  to  Europe. 

'2.  Her  obligations  to  Europe  for  science  and  art,  laws, 
literature,  and  manners,  America  acknowledges  as  she 
ought,  with  respect  and  gratitude.  And  the  people  of 
the  United  States,  descendants  of  the  English  stock, 
grateful  for  the  treasures  of  knowledge  derived  from 
their  Englisli  ancestors,  ^aeknowledge,  also,  with  thanks 
and  filial  regard,  that,  among  those  ancestors,  under  the 
‘^culture*  of  Hampden  and  Sidney,  and  other  assiduous 
friends,  that  seed  of  popular  liberty  first  germinated, 
which,  911  our  soil,  has  shot  up  to  its  full  hight,  until  its 
branches  ‘**overshadow*all  the  land. 

3.  Eut' America  has  hot  failed  to  make  returns.  If 
she  has  not  '♦‘canceled  the  '♦'obligation,  or  equaled  it  by 
others  of  like  weight,  she  has,  at  least,  made  '♦'respectable 


272 


NEW  EIFTU  HEADER. 


advance,  and  some  approaches  toward  equality.  And 
she  admits,  that,  standing  in  the  midst  of  civilized  na- 
tions, and  in  a civilized  age,  a nation  among  nations, 
there  is  a high  part  which  she  is  expected  to  act,  for 
the  general  advance  of  human  interests  and  human 
welfare. 

4.  American  mines  have  filled  the  mints  of  Europe 
with  the  precious  metals.  The  productions  of  the  Ameri- 
can soil  and  climate,  have  poured  out  their  abundance 
of  '‘'luxuries  for  the  tables  of  the  rich,  and  of  necessaries 
for  the  sustenance  of  the  poor.  Birds  and  animals  of 
beauty  and  value,  have  been  added  to  the  European 
stocks  ; and  '‘'transplantations  from  the  transcendent  and 
unequaled  riches  of  our  forests,  have  mingled  themselves 
profusely  with  the  elms,  and  ashes,  and  Druidical  oaks 
of  England. 

5.  America  has  made  '‘'contributions  far  more  vast. 
Who  can  estimate  the  amount  or  the  value  of  the  '’'aug- 
mentation  of  the  conitnerce  of  the  world,  that  has  re- 
sulted from  America  ? Who  can  imagine  to  himself  what 
would  be  the  shock  to  the  Eastern  Continent,  if  the  At 
lantic  were  no  longer  ^traversable,  or  there  were  no 
longer  American  '‘'productions  or  American  markets^ 

6.  But  America  exercises  influences,  or  holds  out  ex- 
amples for  the  consideration  of  the  Old  World,  of  a 
much  higher,  because  they  are  of  a moral  and  political 
character.  America  has  furnished  to  Europe,  proof  of 
the  fact,  that  popular  '‘'institutions,  founded  on  equality 
and  the  principle  of  representation,  are  capable  of  '‘'main- 
taining governments ; able  to  secure  J^he  rights  of  per- 
sons, property,  and  '‘'reputation. 

7.  America  has  proved  that  it  is  practicable  to  elevate 
the  mass  of  mankind ; that  portion  which,  in  Europe,  is 
called  the  laboring  or  lower  class ; to  raise  them  to  self- 
respect,  to  make  them  '‘'competent  to  act  a part  in  the 
great  right  and  great  duty  of  self-government ; and  this, 
she  has  proved,  may  be  done  by  the  tdilfusion  of  knowl- 
edge. She  holds  out  an  example  a thousand  times  more 
enchanting,  than  ever  was  presented  before,  to  those 


ECLECTIC  SERIES.  273 

nine  tenths  of  the  human  race,  who  are  born  without 
-^hereditary  fortune  or  hereditary  rank. 

8.  America  has  furnished  to  the  world  the  character 

of  Washington.  And  if  our  American  institutions  had 
done  nothing  else,  that  alone  would  have  entitled  them 
to  the  respect  of  mankind.  Washington!  ‘‘First  in 
war,  first  in  peace,  and  first  in  the  hearts  of  his  country- 
men I”  Washington  is  all  our  own  1 ^ 

9.  The  enthusiastic  veneration  and  regard  in  which 
the  people  of  the  United  States  hold  him,  prove  them  to 
be  worthy  of  such  a countryman  ; while  his  reputation 
abroad  reflects  the  highest  honor  on  his  country  and  its 
institutions.  I would  cheerfully  put  the  question  to  any 
of  the  intelligence  of  Europe  and  the  world,  what  char- 
acter of  the  '•'century,  upon  the  whole,  stands  out  on  the 
relief  of  history,  most  pure,  most  respectable,  most  sub- 
lime ; and  I doubt  not  that,  by  a '•'suffrage  approaching 
to  '•'unanimity,  the  answer  would  be — Washington  I 

10.  This  structure*  by  its  uprightness,  its  solidity,  its 

'•'durability,  is  no  unfit  emblem  of  his  character.  His 
public  virtue  and  public  principles  were  as  firm  as  the 
earth  on  which  it  stands;  his  personal  motives  as  pure 
as  the  serene  heaven  in  which  its  summit  is  lost.  But, 
indeed,  though  a fit,  it  is  an  . emblem.  Tow- 

ering high  above  the  column  winch  our  hands  have 
builded,  beheld  not  by  the  inhabitants  of  a single  city, 
or  a single  State,  ascends  the  colossal  '•'grandeur  of  his 
character  and  his  life.  In  all  the  '•'constituents  of  the 
one,  in  all  the  acts  of  Ihe  other,  in  all  its  titles  to  immor- 
tal love,  admiration,  and  renown,  it  is  an  American  pro- 
duction. ^ 

11.  It  is  the  ei^odiment  and  vindication  of  our  trans- 
Atlantic  liberty.  Born  upon  our  soil,  of  parents  also 
born  upon  it;  never,  for  a moment,  having^had  a sight 
of  the  old  world;  instructed,  according  to  ihe  modes  of 
Ids  time,  only  in  the  spare,  but  wholesome  elementary 
knowledge  which  our '•'institutions  provide  for  the  child- 
ren of  the  people;  growing  up  beneath,  and  penetrated 


* Bunker  Hill  Monument 


274 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


by,  the  genuine  influence  of  American  society;  growing 
up  amid  our  expanding,  but  not  ^luxurious  • ’ . ; , 

partaking  in  our  great  destiny  of  labor,  our  long  contest 
with  unreclaimed  nature  and  uncivilized  man,  our  agony 
of  glorj^,  the  War  of  Independence,  our  great  victory  of 
peace,  the  formation  of  the  Union,  and  the  establishment 
of  the  Constitution ; he  is  all,  all  our  own ! That  crowded 
^nd  glorious  life. 

Where  multitudes  of  virtues  passed  along, 

Each  pressing  foremost  in  the  mighty  throng, 
Contending  to  be  seen,  then  making  room 
For  greater  multitudes  that  were  to  come; — ” 

chat  life  was  the  life  of  an  American  citizen. 

12.  I claim  him  for  America.  In  all  the  perils,  in 
every  darkened  moment  of  the  state,  in  the  midst  of  the 
reproaches  of  enemies,  and  the  misgivings  of  friends,  I 
turn  to  that  transcendent  name  for  courage  and  for  con- 
solation. To  him  who  denies  or  doubts,  whether  our 
fervid  liberty  can  be  combined  with  law,  with  order, 
with  the  security  ^f  property,  with  the  pursuits  and 
advancement  of  happiness ; to  him  who  denies  that  our 
institutions  are  capable  of  producing  exaltation  of  soul 
and  the  passion  of  true  glory;  to  him  who  denies  that 
we  have  contributed  any  to  the  stock  of  great  lessons 
and  great  examples ; to  all  these  I reply,  by  pointing  to 
Washington. 

Questions. — Where  is  Bunker  Hill?  What  important  event  oc- 
curred there?  When?  For  what  is  America  indebted  to  Europe? 
For  what  is  Europe  indebted  to  America  ? How  does  the  Bunker  Hill 
Monument  represent  Washington  ? What  is  said  of  Washington  as 
an  American  character  ? 


EXERCISE  XXXV. 

Sweet-scented  shrubs.  Spruce  was  sprinkVd  sparsely.  The  roots 
lie  shrunlc  and  slirivVd  till  spring.  Thou  sneer^st  and  scoff' st  inex- 
cusably. He  was  formida6Ze,  unbeara6?e,  intolera6Ze,  unmanage- 
ahZe,  and  terri6?6. 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


275 


/ 

LESSON  LXXVIII. 


SSer'-ried;  xdj,  crowded  to- 
getlier. 

T*».\l^-anx;  n.  a body  of  troops 
formed  iu  close  array. 

2 En-chant^-ed;  adj.  possessed 
by  witches  or  imaginary  spi- 
rits. 

2.  Ram^'-part;  n.  that  which  de- 
fends from  assauR. 


3.  Im-preg^-na-ble  ; adj.  that  can 
not  be  moved  or  shaken. 

3.  Hor^-rent;  adj.  standing  out 

like  bristles. 

4.  In-surg^-ent;  rising  in  op- 

sition  to  authority. 

4.  Fray  ; n.  quarrel,  battle. 

6.  An-ni^-hi-late  ; v.  to  reduce  to 
nothing. 


MAKE  WAY  FOR  LIBERTY. 

Articulate  the  d and  t clearly.  Do  not  say  tliou-sans  for  thou- 
Banc?s  ; diiss  for  dus^;  frierds  for  friencZs  ; con-flic  for  con-flic/; 
groun  for  grounc? ; foun  for  founcZ ; muss  for  mus^. 

At  the  battle  of  Lempach,  a.  n.  1315,  between  the  Swiss  and  Aus- 
trians, the  latter  having  obtained  possession  of  a narrow  pass  in  the 
mountains,  formed  a serried  phalanx  with  presented  spears.  Until 
this  was  broken,  the  Swiss  could  not  hope  to  make  a successful  attack. 
At  last,  Arnold  Winkelried,  leaving  the  Swiss  ranks,  rushed  upon  the 
Austrian  spears,  and  receiving  in  his  body  as  many  points  as  possible , 
made  a breach  in  the  line,  which  resulted  in  the  complete  rout  of  the 
Austrian  army. 

1.  “Make  way  for  ‘^Liberty! ” he  cried; 

Made  way  for  Liberty,  and  died  ! 

2.  In  arms  the  Austrian  phalanx  stood, 

A living  wall,  a human  wood  1 

A wall,  where  every  '^conscious  stone 
Seemed  to  its  kindred  thousands  grown  ; 

A rampart  all  ‘^'assaults  to  bear. 

Till  time  to  dust  their  frames  sliould  wear ; 

A wood  like  that- enchanted  grove, 

In  which,  with  fiendsV'Llinaldo  strove. 

Where  every  silent  tree  possessed 
A spirit  prisoned  in  his  breast. 

Which  the  first  stroke  of  coming  strife 
Would  '^startle  into  '^hideous  life: 


276 


NEW  FIFTH  READn^rv, 


So  dense,  so  still,  the  Austrians  stood, 

A living  wall,  a human  wood  I 

3.  Impregnable  their  front  appears. 

All  horrent  with  ^projected  spears. 

Whose  polished  points  before  them  shine. 

From  flank  to  flank,  one  brilliant  line, 

i Bright  as  the  breakers’  splendors  run 
Along  the  billows  of  the  sun. 

4.  Opposed  to  these,  a '‘'hovering  band. 

Contending  for  their  native  land  : 

Peasants,  whose  new-found  strength  had  broke 
From  manly  necks  the  ‘‘'ignoble  yoke. 

And  ‘‘■forged  their  fetters  into  swords. 

On  equal  terms  to  fight  their  lords; 

And  what  insurgent  rage  had  gained, 

In  many  a mortal  fray  maintained : 

Marshaled  once  more  at  freedom’s  call. 

They  came  to  conquer  or  to  fall. 

Where  he  who  conquered,  he  who  fell. 

Was  deemed  a dead  or  living  Tell ! 

5.  And  now  the  work  of  life  and  death 
Hung  on  the  passing  of  a breath ; 

The  fire  of  conflict  burned  within ; 

The  battle  trembled  to  begin: 

Yet,  while  the  Austrians  held  their  ground. 
Point  for  attack  was  no  where  found ; 

Where’er  the  impatient  Switzers  gazed. 

The  unbroken  line  of  lances  blazed; 

That  line ’t  were  ‘‘‘suicide  to  meet, 

And  perish  at  their  tyrants’  feet; 

How  could  they  rest  within  their  graves. 

And  leave  their  homes  the  homes  of  slaves? 
Would  they  not  feel  their  children  tread 
\With  clanking  chains  above  their  head? 

6.  It  must  not  be:  this  day,  this  hour, 

Annihilates  the  oppressor’s  power; 

All  Switzerland  is  in  the  field. 

She  will  not  fly,  she  can  not  yield ; 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


277 


Few  were  the  numbers  she  could  boast; 

Eut  every  freeman  was  a host, 

And  felt  as  though  himself  were  he 
On  whose  Sole  arm  hung  victory. 

7 It  did  depend  on  one  indeed  ; 

Behold  him ! Arnold  Winkelried  ! 

There  sounds  not  to  the  trump  of  fame 
The  echo  of  a nobler  name. 

Unmarked  he  stood  amid  the  throng, 

In  ■’'rumination  deep  and  long. 

Till  you  might  see  with  sudden  grace. 

The  very  thought  come  o’er  his  face; 

And  by  the  motion  of  his  form, 

^Anticipate  the  bursting  storm  ; 

And  by  the  uplifting  of  his  brow. 

Tell  where  the  bolt  would  strike,  and  how. 

But ’t  was  no  sooner  thought  than  done; 

The  field  was  in  a moment  won. 

8.  ‘‘Make  way  for  Liberty !”  he  cried; 

Then  ran,  with  arms  extended  wide. 

As  if  his  dearest  friend  to  clasp. 

Ten  spears  he  swept  within  his  grasp 
“ Make  way  for  Liberty!’^  he  cried. 

Their  keen  points  met  from  side  to  side; 

He  bowed  among  them  like  a tree. 

And  thus  made  way  for  Liberty. 

9.  Swift  to  the  breach  his  comrades  fly ; 

“Make  way  for  Liberty!”  they  cry. 

And  through  the  Austrian  phalanx  dart, 

As  rushed  the  spears  though  Arnold’s  heart; 

While  ■♦'instantaneous  as  his  fall, 

Eout,  ruin,  panic,  scattered  all. 

An  earthquake  could  not  overthrow 
A city  with  a surer  blow. 

/ 

10.  Thus  Switzerland  again  was  free. 

Thus  Death  made  way  for  Liberty  1 

Questions. — When,  and  between  whom  did  the  battle  of  Lempach 
take  place?  How  was  the  battle  won? 


278 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


LESSON  LXXIX./f 


1.  Beak;  n.  the  bill  of  a bird. 
1.  Wri^-thing;  V.  twisting. 

3.  WiNG^-LETs;  n.  little  wings. 


3.  Fledged;  v.  furnished  with 
feathers. 

5.  Cleaving;  adj,  splitting. 


THE  AMERICAN  EAGLE. 

Remark. — Give  the  poetic  pauses  their  appropriate  prominence. 

In  most  of  the  following  lines,  the  cesura  is  very  decidedly  marked. 

3 1 

Pronounce  correctly.  Do  not  say /erce  for  fierce;  hud  for  bird; 

ihun-dJruz  for  ihun-der-ers ; wing-lits  for  -wing-lets. 

1.  There’s  a fierce  gray  bird,  with  a bending  beak, 

"With  an  angry  eye  and  a startling  shriek, 

•That  nnrses  her  brood  where  the  cliff  fiowers  blow, 
On  the  e top,  in  tperpetual  snow; 

That  sits  where  the  air  is  shrill  and  bleak, 

On  the  splintered  point  of  a shivered  peak. 

Bald  headed  and  stripped,  like  a '^'vulture,  torn 
In  wind  and  strife ; her  feathers  worn. 

And  rnified,  and  stained,  while  loose  and  bright, 
Kound  her  serpent  neck,  that  is  writhing  and  bare, 

Is  a '^crimson  collar  of  gleaming  hair. 

Like  the  crest  of  a warrior,  thinned  in  fight. 

And  shorn,  and  bristling. 

2 See  her ! where 
She  sits,  in  the  glow  of  the  sim-bright  air, 

With  wing  half  '^'poised  and  talons  bleeding, 

And  kindling  eye,  as  if  her  +prey 
Had  suddenly  been  snatched  away. 

While  she  v^as  tearing  it  and  feeding. 

3 Above  the  dark  ‘^torrent,  above  the  bright  stream, 

The  voice  may  be  heard 
Of  the  thunderer’s  bird. 

Calling  out  to  her  god  in  a clear,  wild  scream. 

As  she  mounts  to  his  throne,  and  unfolds  in  his  beam; 
While  her  young  are  laid  out  in  his  rich,  red  blaze, 
And  their  winglets  are  fledged  in  his  hottest  rays. 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


27D 


4.  Proud  bird  of  tho  cliff!  where  tJio  barren  yew 
sj)rings, 

Where  the  siinsliine  stays,  and  the  wind  harp  sings, 
She  sits,  ^unapproachable,  pluming  her  wings  ; 

She  screams!  She’s  away!  over  hilltop  and  flood, 
Over  valley  and  rock,  over  mountain  and  wood. 

That  bird  is  abroad  in  the  van  of  her  brood ! 

5 ’Tis  the  bird  of  our  ^banner,  the  free  bird  that 
braves. 

When  the  battle  is  there,  all  the  wrath  of  the  waves : 
That  dips  her  "Opinions  in  the  sun’s  first  gush ; 

Drinks  his  ^meridian  blaze,  his  farewell  flush ; 

Sits  amid  stirring  stars,  and  bends  her  beak. 

Like  the  slipped  "^falcon,  when  her  "^piercing  shriek 
Tells  that  she  stoops  upon  her  cleaving  Aving, 

To  drink  at  some  ncAV  victim’s  clear,  red  spring. 

6.  That  monarch  bird ! she  slumbers  in  the  night. 

Upon  the  lofty  air  peak’s  utmost  hight; 

Or  sleeps  upon  the  wing,  amid  the  ray 
Of  steady,  cloudless,  '^everlasting  day : 

Eides  with  the  thunderer  in  his  '♦''blazing  march. 

And  bears  his  lightnings  o’er  yon  boundless  arch; 
Soars  '^wheeling  through  the  storm,  and  screams  away, 
Where  the  young  pinions  of  the  morning  play ; 
Broods  with  her  arroAVS  in  the  *rhurricane ; 

Bears  her  green  '^laurel  o’er  the  starry  plain. 

And  sails  around  the  skies,  and  o’er  the  rolling  deeps, 
With  still  '^unwearied  wing,  and  eye  that  ncA' er  sleeps. 

Questions. — What  is  the  emblem  of  our  country?  Describe  the 
habits  of  the  eagle.  What  traits  in  the  character  of  this  bird  are 
worthy  of  admiration? 


EXERCISE  XXXVI. 

They  haitVd  manfully.  The  ship  being  sciittVdy  setiVd  in  deep 
water.  A drizzling  rain  fell.  The  bear  has  crispy^  frizzVd  hair. 
They  were  puzzl’d  and  dazzl’d  by  the  glitter. 


280 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


LESSON  LXXX.  .:^^ 


1 Sanc'-ti-ty  ; n.  holiness,  pu- 
rity. 

2.  En-thu^-si-ast  ; n.  one  whose 
imagination  is  heated. 

2.  Sect'-a-ry;  n.  one  who  sepa- 
rates from  the  established 
church. 

2.  Max ''-IMS ; n.  established  prin- 
■ ciples. 

3.  Pre-pos-ses^-sion  ; n.  an  opin- 

ion formed  before  examining 
a subject. 

3.  Ig^-no-min-y;  n.  public  disgrace. 


3.  SoPH^-iST ; n.  a deceptive  rea- 

soner. 

) PreZ-hept;  n.  a rule  of  action. 

4.  Eu^-lo-gized;  v.  praised,  com- 

mended. 

5.  Fa-nat^-i-cism  ; n,  wild  notions 

of  religion. 

6.  Ex^-e-cra-ted;  v.  cursed,  de- 

nounced. 

6.  Ex-cru^-cia-ting;  extreme- 

ly painful. 

7.  Fab'-ric-ate;  v.  to  invent,  to 

devise  falsely. 


THE  SCRIPTURES  AND  THE  SAVIOR. 

The  following  is  an  extract  from  the  writings  of  Rousseau,  a French 
author  of  distinction,  but  a noted  and  avowed  Infidel. 

Utter  distinctly  all  the  consonants  in  the  following  and  similar 
words  in  this  lesson:  majesty,  scriptures,  sanctity,  gospel,  subject, 
philosopher,  distance,  enthusiast,  fnstructions,  described,  disgrace, 
exactly,  rewards,  sobriety,  midst,  friends,  fabricate. 

1.  The  majesty  of  the  ^Scriptures  strikes  me  with 
astonisliment,  and  the  sanbtity  of  the  gospel  addresses 
itself  to  my  hear^  Look  at  the  volumes  of  the  '♦'philos- 
ophers, with  all  their  pomp  : how  -icontemptible  do  they 
appear  in  '♦'comparison  with  this!  Is  it  possible,  that  a 
book  at  once  so  simple  and  sublime,  can  be  the  work  of 
man? 

2.  Gan  he  who  is  the  subject  of  its  history,  be  him- 
self a mere  man  ? W as  his  the  tone  of  an  enthusiast,  or 
of  an  '♦'ambitious  sectary?  What  sweetness  1 What  '♦'pu- 
rity in  his  manners  1 What  an  affecting  '♦'gracefulness 
in  his  instructions  1 What  sublimity  in  his  maxims  I 
What  '♦'profound  wisdom  in  his  '♦'discourses  1 What  pre- 
sence of  mind,  what  '♦'sagacity  and  '♦'propriety  in  his 
answers!  How  great  the  command  over  his  passions  I 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


281 


Where  is  the  man,  where  the  philosopher,  who  could  so 
live,  suffer,  and  die,  without  weakness  and  without  +os- 
tentation? 

' — 3.  When  Plato  described  his  '^imaginary  good  man, 
•covered  with  all  the  disgrace  of  crime,  yet  worthy  of  all 
the  rewards  of  virtue,  he  described  exactly  the  charac- 
ter of  Jesus  Christ.  The  resemblance  was  so  striking, 
it  could  not  be  mistaken,  and  all  the  fathers  of  the 
church  perceived  it.  What  prepossession,  what  blindness 
must  it  be,  to  compare  the  son  of  Soplironius  to  the  son 
of  Mary ! What  an  Limn^easurable  distance  between 
them!  Socrates,  dying  without  pain,  and  without  igno- 
miny, easily  supported  his  character  to  the  last;  and  if- 
his  death,  however  easy,  had  not  crowned  his  life,  it 
might  have  been  doubted  whether  Socrates,  with  all  his 
wisdom,  was  any  thing  more  than  a mere  sophist. 

4.  He  '^invented,  it  is  said,  the  theory  of  moral 
^science.  Others,  however,  had  before  him  put  it  in 
practi(jp;  and  he  had  nothing  to  do  but  to  tell  what  they 
had  done,  and  to  reduce  their  examples  to  precept. 
Aristides  had  been  just,  before  Socrates  defined  what 
justice  was.  Leonidas  had  died  for  his  country,  before 
Socrates  made  it  a duty  to  love  one’s  country.  Sparta 
' had  been  temperate,  before  Socrates  eulogized  ‘’‘sobriety; 
and  before  he  '’’celebrated  the  praises  of  virtue,  Greece 
abounded  in  virtuous  men. 

' — X 5.  But  from  whom  of  all  his  countrymen,  could  Jesus 
have  derived  that  sublime  and  pure  morality,  of  which 
he  only  has  given  us  both  the  precepts  and  example? 
In  the  midst  of  the  most '’'licentious  fanaticism,  the  voice 
of  the  sublimest  wisdom  was  heard;  and  the  simplicity 
of  the  most  '’'heroic  virtue  crowned  one  of  the  humblest 
of  all  the  ■’"multitude. 

G.  The  death  of  Socrates,  peacefully  philosophizing^ 
with  his  friends,  is  the  most  pleasant  that  could  be  de- 
sired! That  of  Jesus,  expiring  in  torments,  '’"outraged, 
■’"reviled,  and  execrated  by  a whole  nation,  is  the  most 
horrible  that  could  be  feared.  Socrates^in  receiving  the 
cup  of  poison,  blessed  the  weeping  executioner  who  pre- 
.5th  R.-2I 


282 


NEW  FIFTH  HEADER. 


sented  it:  but  Jesus,  in  the  midst  of  excruciating  tor- 
ture, prayed  for  his  -^-merciless  '»'tor mentors. 

7.  Yes  ! if  the  life  and  death  of  Socrates  were  those 
of  a sage,  the  life  and  death  of  Jesus  were  those  of  a 
God.  Shall  we  say  that  the  evangeli&l  history  is  a 
mere.  +fiction  ? It  does  not  bear  the  stamp  of  fiction,  but 
the  contrary.  The  history  of  Socrates,  which  nobody 
doubts,  is  not  as  well  '♦'attested  as  that  of  J esus  Christ. 
Such  an  assertion  in  fact  only  shifts  the  difficulty,  with- 
out removing  it.  It  is  more  inconceivable  that  a number 
of  persons  should  have  agreed  to  fabricate  this  book, 
than  that  one  only  should  have  furnished  the  subject 
of  it. 

8.  The  Jewish  authors  were  '♦'incapable  of  the  diction, 
and  strangers  to  the  '♦'morality,  contained  in  the  gospel, 
the  marks  of  whose  truth  are  so  striking,  so  perfectly 
'♦'inimitable,  that  the  ‘♦'inventor  would  be  a more  aston- 
ishing man  than  the  hero. 

Questions.— How  does  Plato’s  character  of  what  a good  i»an  ought 
to  he,  correspond  with  what  Christ  was  What  differences  can  you 
mention  between  the  life  and  death  of  Christ,  and  those  of  Socrates? 
In  what  country  did  Aristides,  Leonidas,  Plato,  and  Socrates  live?  Is 
the  history  of  Socrates  any  better  attested  than  that  of  Christ  ? ^ Why 
is  it  inconceivable  that  the  book  is  a fiction?  Suppose  it  an  inven- 
tion pf  man;  which  would  be  the  most  wonderful,  the  inventor  or  the 
hero?^  Who  was  the  author  of  this  extract?  How  could  an  infidel 
express  such  sentiments?  Are  not  men  often  forced  to 

acknowledge  the  truth  ? 


EXERCISE  XXXVII. 

They  stniggVd  through  all  difficulties.  The  rules  are  unnecessa- 
rily strict  He  strode  proudly  on.  They  strolVd  through  thickets 
and  binarSf  and  brambles,  and  thorns,  till  they  reached  the  road. 
The  clock  strikes  twelve. 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


283 


LESSON  LXXXL 


2 Pre-ter-nat''-u-ral;  adj.  be- 
yond or  different  from  what  is 
natural. 

2.  Shriv^-el’d;  adj,  shrunk  into 

wrinkles. 

3.  Prog-nos^-tic  ; adj.  showing 

something  to  come. 

3.  Pas^-sion  ; n.  suffering,  the  last 
suffering  of  our  Savior. 

3.  Pa^-thos  ; 71.  that  which  excites 
feeling. 

i 4.  Mys'-tic  ; adj.  sacredly  obscure, 
involving  some  secret  mean- 
ing. 

V 


4.  Sym^-bol  ; n.  a sign  or  repre- 
sentation of  something. 

4.  E-nun-ci-a^-tion;  n.  the  act  of 
uttering. 

4.  XJ^-ni-son;  n.  agreement,  har- 

mony. 

5.  Dis-tor^-tion  ; n.  a twisting 

out  of  shape. 

5.  Buf^-fet;  n.  a blow  with  the 
fist. 

7.  Fal-la^-cious  ; adj.  deceiving. 
7.  Ab-rupt^-ness;  n.  suddenness. 
9.  Por-tent^-ous  ; adj.  foretelling 
of  evil. 


THE  BLIND  PREACHER. 

Remark. — The  pathos  of  the  description  in  the  following  lesson  is 
its  great  beauty,  and  requires  an  appropriate  tone  and  manner. 


Pronounce  correctly.  Do  not  say/mc  for  join;  cov-iid  for  cov- 
ered; sa-cra-ment  for  sac-ra-ment;  jpic-isliure  hoy  pic-ter  ^ov  pict- 
wre,  pro.  pict-yur;  fig-ure,  pro.  Jig-yur;  grand-eur,  pro.  grand- 
yur  ; por-ten-shus  ioY  \)OT-ioxit-ous  ; at-ti-tudes,  pro.  at-iit-yudes. 


1.  As  I traveled  through  the  county  of  Orange,  my 
eye  was  caught  by  a cluster  of  horses  tied  near  a "^ruin- 
ous, old,  wooden  house  in  the  forest,  not  far  from  the 
roadside.  Having  frequently  seen  such  objects  before, 
in  traveling  through  these  States,  I had  no  ‘^difficulty  in 
^understanding  that  this  was  a place  of  religious  wor- 
ship. 

2.  Devotion  alone  should  have  stopped  me  to  join  in 
the  duties  of  the  ‘♦'congregation ; but  I must  confess, 
that  curiosity  to  hear  the  preacher  of  such  a wilderness, 
was  not  the  least  of  my  motives.  On  qntering,  I was 
struck  ^ith.  his  preternatural  appearance.  He  was  a 
tall  and  very  spare  old  man;  his  head,  which  was  cov- 
ered with  a white  linfti  cap,  his  shriveled  hands,  and  his 
voice,  were  all  shaking  under  the  influence  of  a ‘♦'palsy ; 


284 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


and  a few  monients  '’'ascertained  to  me  that  he  was  per- 
fectly blind. 

3.  The  first  emotions  tbat  touched  my  breast  were 
those  of  mingled  pity  and  veneration.  But  how  soon 
were  all  my  feelings  changed?  The  lips  of  Plato  were 
never  more  worth}^  of  a prognostic  swarm  of  bees,  than 
were  the  lips  of  this  holy  man  ! It  was  a day  of  the 
■‘'administration  of  the  '‘'sacrament;  and  his  subject  was, 
of  course,  the  passion  of  our  Savior.  I had  heard  the 
subject  handled  a thousand  times;  I had  thought  it 
exhausted  long  ago.  Little  did  I suppose,  that,  in  the 
wild  woods  of  America,  I was  to  meet  with  a man, 
whose  eloquence  would  give  to  this  topic  a new  and 
more  sublime  pathos,  than  I had  ever  before  witnessed. 

4.  As  he  descended  from  the  pulpit,  to  '‘‘distribute 
the  mystic  symbols,  there  was  a ‘‘'peculiar,  a more  than 
human  '‘‘solemnity  in  his  air  and  manners,  which  made 
my  blood  run  cold,  and  my  whole  frame  shiver.  He 
then  drew  a picture  of  the  sufferings  of  our  Savior;  his 
trial  before  Pilate;  his  ascent  up  Calvary;  his  '‘'cruci- 
fixion. I knew  the  whole  history;  but  never  until  then, 
had  I heard  the  circumstances  so  ‘‘‘selected,  so  arranged, 
so  colored.  It  was  all  new;  and  I seemed  to  have  heard 
it  for  the  first  timedn  my  life.  His  enunciation  Avas  so 
‘‘deliberate,  that  his  voice  trembled  on  every  syllable; 
and  every  heart  in  the  assembly  trembled  in  unison. 

5.  His  peculiar  phrases  had  that  force  of  ‘‘‘descrip- 
tion, that  the  original  scene  appeared  to  be  at  that 
moment  acting  before  our  eyes.  We  saw  the  very  faces 
of  the  JeAVs;  the  staring,  frightful  distortion  of  maljce 
and  rage.  We  saw  the  buffet;  my  soul  kindled  Avith  a 
flame  of  '‘‘indignation;  and  my  hands  Avere  '‘‘involun- 
tarily and  ‘‘‘conAuilsively  clinched. 

6.  But  Avhen  he  came  to  touch  on  the  patience,  the 
forgiving  meekness  of  our  Savdor ; Avhen  he  drew,  to 
the  life,  his  voice  breathing  to  God  a soft  and  gentle 
prayer  of  pardon  on  his  enemies,  “Father,  forgfve  them, 
for  they  knoAv  not  wluit  they  do,”  the  Amice  of  the 
preacher,  Avbich  liad  all  along  faltered,  grcAv  fainter, 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


285 


until,  his  ■^utterance  being  entirely  obstructed  by  the 
force  of  his  feelings,  he  raised  his  handkerchief  to  his 
eyes,  and  burst  into  a 1^'d  and  "^irrepressible  flood  of 
grief.  The  eflect  was  "^'inconceivable.  The  whole  house 
resounded  with  the  mingled  groans,  and  sobs,  and 
shr  ieks  of  the  congregation. 

""'TT"  It  was  some  time  before  the  tumult  had  subsided, 
so  far  as  to  permit  him  to  proceed.  Indeed,  judging  by 
the  usual,  but  fallacious  standard  of  my  own  weakness, 
I began  to  be  very  uneasy  for  the  situation  of  the 
preacher.  For  I could  not  conceive  how  he  would  be 
able  to  let  his  audience  down  from  the  hight  to  which  he 
had  wound  them,  without  '^'impairing  the  "^solemnity  and 
"^dignity  of  the  subject,  or  perhaps  shocking  them  by 
the  abruptness  of  his  fall.  But,  no : the  descent  was  as 
beautiful  and  sublime,  as  the  elevation  had  been  rapid 
and  "^enthusiastic. 

8.  The  first  sentence,  with  which  he  broke  the  awful 
silence  was  a quotation  from  Rousseau  : “ Socrates  died 
like  a philosopher,  but  Jesus  Christ,  like  a God!”  I 
despair  of  giving  you  any  idea  of  the  effect  produced 
by  this  short  sentence,  unless  you  could  "^perfectly  con- 
ceive the  whole  manner  of  the  man,  as  well  as  the  pecu- 
liar crisis  in  the  discourse.  Never  before  did  I com- 
pletely understand  what  Demosthenes  meant  by  laying 
such  stress  on  "^delivery. 

k9.  You  are  to  bring  before  you  the  venerable  figure 
of  the  preacher;  his  blindness,  cgiistantly  recalling  to 
your  recollection  old  Homer,  Ossian,  and  Milton,  and 
associating  with  his  performance  the  melancholy  "^grand- 
eur of  their  geniuses;  you  are  to  imagine  that  you  hear 
his  slow,  solemn,  well -accented  enunciation,  and  his 
voice  of  affecting  trembling  melody ; you  are  to  remem- 
ber the  yjitch  of  passion  and  enthusiasm,  to  which  the 
congregation  were  raised  : and  then,  the  few  moments  of 
portentous,  death -like  silence,  which  reigned  through- 
out the  house;  the  preacher,  removing  his  white  hand- 
kerchief from  his  aged  face  (even  yet  wet  from  tlio 
recent  torrent  of  his  t.ears),  and  slowly  stretching  forth 


•286 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


the  palsied  hand  which  held  it,  begins  the  sentence, 
Socrates  died  like  a philosopher  ’’—then,  pausing,  rais- 
ing his  other  hand,  pressing  them  both  clasped  together 
with  warmth  and  energy  to  his  breast,  lifting  his 
“sightless  balls”  to  heaven,  and  pouring  his  whole  soul 
into  his  '’‘tremulous  voice — “but  Jesus  Christ — like  a 
God!” 

10.  This  man  has  been  before  my  imagination  almost 
ever  since.  A thousand  times,  as  I rode  along,  I dropped 
the  reins  of  my  bridle,  stretched  forth  my  hand,  and 
tried  to  imitate  his  '’'quotation  from  Eousseau ; a thou- 
sand times  I abandoned  the  attempt  in  despair,  and  felt 
persuaded,  that  his  peculiar  manner  and  power  arose 
from  an  '’’energy  of  soul,  which  nature  could  give,  but 
which  no  human  being  could  justly  copy.  As  T recall, 
at  this  moment,  several  of  his  awfully  striking  '’'atti- 
tudes, the  chilling  tide  with  which  my  blood  begins  to 
pour  along  my  ‘’'arteries,  reminds  me  of  the  emotions 
produced  by  the  first  sight  of  Gray’s  '’'introductory  pic- 
ture of  his  Bard. 

Questions.— Can  you  describe  tlie  personal  appearance  of  the  blind 
preacher?  What  effect  was  produced  by  his  manner?  When  he 
described  the  character  and  conduct  of  Christ,  what'  was  the  effect  on 
the  congregation  ? What  effect  was  produced  by  the  circumstance  of 
his  blindness?  What  was  the  secret  of  the  preacher’s  great  power? 


LESSON  LXXXIl.f  £^ 


THE  GODS  OF  THE  HEATHEN. 

Pkonoun'CE  correctly.  Do  not  say  for  mer-cy ; miue-/vl 

for  mind-ful ; Js-r’eZ  for  Is-m-el ; si-Zwnce  for  si-lence. 

1 . Not  unto  us,  Oh  Lord ! not  unto  us, 

But  unto  thy  name  give  glory, 

For  thy  mercy,  and  for  thy  truth’s  sake. 

Wherefore  should  the  +heathen  say. 

Where  is  now  their  God  ? 

But  our  God  is  in  the  heavens; 

He  hath  done  whatsoever  he  hath  pleased. 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


287 


2.  TJioir  idols  are  silver  and  gold, 

The  work  of  men’s  hands. 

They  have  months,  hut  they  speak  not : 

Eyes  have  they, ’hut  they  see  not: 

They  have  ears  hut  they  hear  not : 

Noses  have  they,  hut  they  smell  not: 

They  have  hands,  hut  they  handle  not : 

Feet  have  they,  hut  they  walk  not : 

Neither  speak  they  through  their  throat. 

They  that  make  them  are  like  unto  tlicm  ; 
is  every  one  that  *^trusteth  in  them. 

3.  Oh  Israel ! trust  thou  in  the  Lord  : 

He  is  their  help  and  their  '^shield, 

' Oh  house  of  Aaron  ! trust  in  the  Lord  : 

He  is  their  help  and  their  shield. 

Ye  that  fear  the  Lord,  trust  in  the  Lord  : 

He  is  their  help  and  their  shield. 

4.  The  Lord  hath  been  ■’‘mindful  of  us ; he  will  bless  us; 
He  will  bless  the  house  of  Israel : 

He  will  bless  the  house  of  Aaron  : 

He  will  bless  them  that  fear  the  Lord, 

Both  small  and  great. 

The  Lord  shall  '’'increase  you  more  and  more. 

You  and  your  children. 

Ye  are  blessed  of  the  Lord 
"Which  made  heaven  and  earth. 

5.  The  heaven,  even  the  heavens,  are  the  Lord’s : 

But  the  earth  hath  he  given  to  the  children  of  men. 
The  dead  praise  not  the  Lord, 

Neither  any  that  go  down  into  '’’silence. 

But  we  will  bless  the  Lord 

From  this  time  forth  and  for  '’'evermore  : 

Praise  the  Lord ! 

Quy-STiONS. — What  is  the  sentiment  expressed  by  this  Psalm?  Whal 
is  the  contrast  made  between  the  true  God,  and  the  idols  of  the 
heathen  ? 

Point  out  the  emphatic  words  in  the  1st  paragraph.  Explain  tha 
inflections  in  tlie  2nd  paragraph,  and  point  out  the  emphatic  words. 


288 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


LESSON  LXXXIIL^; 


I Class^-ic  ; n.  a book  written  by 
an  author  of  the  first  class. 

1.  An-tiq^-ui-ty;  n.  great  age. 

1.  Un-ri^-valed  ; v.  having  no 

equal. 

2.  Au-tiien-tic^-i-ty  ; n.  genuine- 

ness, the  quality  of  being  a 
real  original. 


2.  Sanc^-tion  ; n.  authority. 

3.  Vers^-a-tile;  adj.  {^ro.  vers^-a. 

til)  various  in  application. 

4.  ViN^-Di-CA-TED ; V.  defended 

justified. 

6.  Ser^-aph;  n.  an  angel  of  thp 
highest  order.  [of  Christ. 
6.  E-van'^-gel-ist  ; n.  a preacher 


^ THE  BIBLE,  THE  BEST  OF  CLASSICS. 

Remark. — Speak  every  syllable  distinctly,  and  do  not  slip  over  the 
little  words,  nor  pronounce  them  wrong. 

Articulate  distinctly  the  following  and  similar  words  in  this 
lesson.  Do  not  say  for  worltZ ; no-hles  iov  no-blesZ;  gif 

gift;  re-fiec  for  reflect;  juss  for  jusZ;  e-van-gel-iss  for  e-van- 
seJ-isZ. 

1.  There  is  a classic,  the  Lest  the  world  has  ever  seen, 
the  noblest  that  has  ever  honored  and  '^dignified  the  lan- 
guage of  mortals.  If  we  look  into  its  antiquity,  we  dis- 
cox^er  a title  to  our  veneration,  unrivaled  in  the  history 
of  '^'literature.  If  we  have  respect  to  its  evidences,  they 
are  found  in  the  testimony  of  miracle  and  prophesy  ; in 
the  ministry  of  man,  of  nature,  and  of  angels,  yea,  even 
of  “God,  manifest  in  the  flesh,”  of  “God  blessed  for- 
ever.” 

2.  If  we  '^'consider  its  authenticity,  no  other  pages 
have  suiwived  the  lapse  of  time,  that  can  be  compared 
with  it.  If  xve  examine  its  '^'authority,  for  it  speaks  as 
never  man  sjiake,  we  discover,  that  it  came  from  heaven, 
in  '^'vision  and  *^prophes3^,  under  the  sanction  of  Him, 
who  is  Creator  of  all  things,  and  the  Giver  of  every 
good  and  perfect  gift. 

3.  If  we  reflect  on  its  truths,  they  are  lox^ely  and  spot- 
less, sublime  and  holy  as  God  himself,  ‘^unchangeable  as 
his  nature,  durable  as  his  righteous  '’'dominion,  and  vcn*- 
salile  as  the  moral  condition  of  mankind.  If  we  regard 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


289 


the  value  of  its  treasures,  we  must  test!  mate  them,  not 
like  the  relics  of  classic  antiquity,  by  the  perishable 
glory  and  beauty,  virtue  and  haj)pineBS,  of  this  world, 
but  by  the  enduring  +perfection  and  supreme  '^felicity  of 
an  eternal  kingdom. 

4.  If  we  inquire,  who  are  the  men,  that  have  '’‘recorded 
’ts  truths,  vindicated  its  rights,  and  '’'illustrated  the  '’‘ex 
cellence  of  its  scheme,  from  the  depth  of  ages  and  from 
the  living  world,  from  the  populous  continent  and  the 
isles  of  the  sea,  comes  forth  the  answer : the  patriarch 
and  the  prophet,  the  evangelist  and  the  "’‘martyr. 

5.  If  we  look  abroad  through  the  world  of  men,  the 
victims  of  folly  or  vice,  the  prey  of  cruelty,  of  injustice, 
and  inquire  what  are  its  benefits,  even  in  this  "’‘tempera^ 
state,  the  great  and  the  hunoblo,  the  rich  and  the  poor, 
the  powerful  and  the  weak,  the  learned  and  the  ign(^ 
rant  reply,  as  with  one  voice,  that  humility  and  ‘’‘resig- 
nation, purity,  order  and  peace,  faith,  hope,  and  charity, 
are  its  blessings  upon  earth. 

6.  And  if,  raising  our  eyes  from  time  to  eternity,  from 
the  world  of  mortals  to  the  world  of  just  men  made  per- 
fect, from  the  visible  creation,  '’‘marvelous,  beautiful,  and 
glorious  as  it  is,  to  the  invisible  creation  of  angels  and 
seraplis,  from  the  foot-stool  of  God  to  the  throne  of 
God  himself,  we  ask,  what  are  the  blessings  that  flow 
from  this  single  volume,  let  the  question  be  answered  by 
the  pen  of  the  evangelist,  the  harp  of  the  prophet,  and 
the  records  of  the  book  of  life. 

7.  Such  is  the  best  of  classics  the  world  has  ever 
admired ; such,  the  noblest  that  man  has  ever  adopted 
as  a guide. 

Questions. — Why  is  the  Bible  called  a classic?  What  is  said  of 
tie  antiquity  of  the  Bible?  What  is  said  of  its  evidences?  What, 
ol  its  authenticity?  What,  of  the  nature  of  its  truths?  What,  of 
the  men  who  wrote  it  and  have  defended  it?  What  is  said  of  the 
change  it  produces  in  the  character  of  men  ? What,  of  its  bearing 
upon  our  future  prospects  ? 

Name  the  nouns  in  the  last  paragraph.  The  verbs.  The  adjectives. 
The  adverbs. 


r,tb  B.— 


290 


NEW  FIFTH  KEADEK. 


LESSON  LXXXIV.#/ 


1.  Pre^-lude;  n.  something  intro- 

ductory. 

! Carp^-ing;  adj,  finding  fault. 
pROT-EST-A^-TiONS ; u.  Solemn 
declarations. 

2.  Gra-da^-tions;  n.  orders,  de- 

grees. 

3.  Pro^-sing;  adj.  tedious,  like 

prose. 

3.  Let^-ter-mon-ger;  n.  a dealer 
in  letters. 

6.  Pique;  v.  (pro.  peek)  to  pride 
or  value  one’s  self. 

6.  Scrib-bler-i^-na;  n.  an  affected 
or  romantic  writer.  [lence. 
6.  Drag^-on-ism;  n.  tyranny,  vio- 
6.  Mar^-gin;  n.  the  border  or  edge. 


6.  At^-tar;  n.  (the  same  aa 
ot-ter)  the  oil  or  essence  of 
roses. 

G.  Cha-rade^;  n.  (pro.  sha-rade') 
a peculiar  kind  of  enigma  or 
riddle. 

7.  Fe-lic^-it-ous-lv^  adv.  hap 
7.  Ex-or^-i)i-um;  n.  the  begin 

ning. 

9.  Ix-DiTE^;  V.  to  write,  to  coin 
pose. 

10.  Pen^-ance;  n,  suffering  iip 
posed  as  punishment. 

11.  E-licMt;  V.  to  draw  forth. 

11.  Un^-du-late;  V.  to  present 

W'avy  appearance  (used  ficfu 
ratively. ) 


ON  LETTER  WRITING. 

Remark. — Read  the  last  part  of  each  sentence  with  a full  ann 
distinct  utterance,  giving  to  each  ' )rd  its  proper  emphasis. 

Articulate  distinctly.  Do  n say  e-pis-flary  for  e-pis-to-la-ry , 
personal  for  per-son-al ; misery  or  mis-er-y ; drudgery  for  drudg- 
er-y;  f’licHous-ly  for  fg-lic-?‘t-ou&ly ; Heracles  for  Her-ct^-les;  im- 
forf nates  for  un-fort-i^-nates ; dls-con-s^late  for  dis-con-so-late ; 
similar  for  sim-i-lar ; dute-fid  for  du-t^-ful ; cal-dla-iion  for  cal- 
c2i-la-tion;  sxif-f^rms  for  suf-figr-ings;  ex-pe-r^ence  for  ex-pe-ri- 
ence;  par-iidlar  for  par-tic-ti-lar ; iin-d'late  for  un-d?.i-late. 

1.  *^Epistolary  as  well  as  personal  '^intercourse  is, 
according  to  the  mode  in  which  it  is  carried  on,  one  of 
the  pleasantest  or  most  irksome  things  in  the  xvorld. 
It  is  delightful  to  drop  in  on  a friend  without  the  solemn 
prelude  of  invitation  and  '^acceptance,  to  join  a '^'social 
circle,  where  we  may  suffer  our  minds  and  hearts  to 
relax  and  expand  in  the  happy  consciousness  of  perfect 
security  from  inxddious  remark  and  carping  criticism; 
where  we  may  give  the  reins  to  the  '*'sportiveness  of 
innocent  fancy,  or  the  enthusiasm  of  warm-hearted 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


291 


feeling;  where  we  may  talk  sense  or  nonsense  (I  pity 
people  who  can  not  talk  nonsense),  without  fear  of  being 
looked  into  icicles  by  the  coldness  of  '‘'unimaginative 
people,  living  pieces  of  clock  work,  who  dare  not  them- 
selves utter  a w^ord,  or  lift  up  a little  finger,  without  first 
weighing  the  important  point  in  the  hair  balance  of 
^propriety  and  good  breeding. 

2.  It  is  equally  delightful  to  let  the  pen  talk  freely, 
and  '‘'unpremeditatedly,  and  to  one  by  whom  we  are 
sure  of  being  understood;  but  a formal  letter,  like  a 
'‘'ceremonious  morning  visit,  is  tedious  alike  to  the  writer 
and  receiver;  for  the  most  part  spun  out  with  unmean- 
ing phrases,  '‘'trite  observations,  '‘'complimentary  flour- 
ishes, and  protestations  of  respect  and  attachment,  so 
far  not  deceitful,  as  the^^  never  deceive  anybody.  Oh, 
the  misery  of  having  to  compose  a set,  proper,  Avell- 
worded,  correctly-pointed,  polite,  elegant  epistle!  one 
that  must  have  a beginning,  a middle,  and  an  end,  as 
methodically  arranged  and  portioned  out,  as  the  several 
parts  of  a sermon  under  three  heads,  or  the  gradations 
of  shade  in  a school-girl’s  first  landscape! 

3.  For  my  part,  I would  rather  be  set  to  beat  hemp, 
or  weed  in  a turnip  field,  than  to  write  such  a letter 
exactly  every  month,  or  every  fortnight,  at  the  '‘‘precise 
point  of  time  from  the  date  of  our  correspondent’s  last 
letter,  that  he  or  she  wrote  after  the  reception  of  ours; 
as  if  one’s  thoughts  bubbled  up  to  the  '‘'well-head,  at 
regular  periods,  a pint  at  a time,  to  be  bottled  off  for 
immediate  use.  Thought!  what  has  thought  to  do  in 
such  a correspondence?  It  murders  thought,  quenches 
fancy,  wastes  time,  spoils  paper,  wears  out  innocent 
goose  quills.  “I’d  rather  be  a kitten,  and  cry  mewl 
than  one  of  those  same”  prosing  letter-mongers. 

4.  Surely,  in  this  age  of  '‘'invention  something  may 
be  struck  out  to  '‘'obviate  the  necessity  (if  such  necessity 
exists)  of  so  tasking,  degrading  the  human  intellect. 
Why  should  not  a sort  of  mute  barrel-organ  be  '‘'con- 
siructed  on  the  plan  of  those  that  play  sets  of  tunes  and 
contra  dances,  to  indite  a '‘‘catalogue  of  polite  epistles, 


292 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


calculated  for  all  the  '^'ceremonious  '^observances  of  good 
breeding?  Oh  the  unspeakable  relief  (could  such  a 
machine  be  invented)  of  having  only  to  grind  an  answer 
to  one  of  one’s  “dear,  five  hundred  friends!” 

5.  Or  suppose  there  were  to  be  an  epistolary  steam 

engine.  Ay,  that’s  the  thing.  Steam  does  every  thing 
now-a-days.  Dear  Mr.  Brunei,  set  about  it,  I beseech 
you,  and  achieve  the  most  glorious  of  your  undertakings. 
The  block  machine  at  Portsmouth  would  be  nothing  to 
it.  That  spares  manual  labor ; this  would  relieve  mental 
'♦'drudgery,  and  thousands  yet  unborn  - - - but 

hold  1 I am  not  so  sure  the  female  sex  in  general  may 
quite  enter  into  my  views  of  the  subject. 

6.  Those  who  pique  themselves  on  the  elegant  style 
of  their  billets,  or  those  fair  scribblerinas  just  '♦'emanci- 
pated from  boarding-school  restraints  or  the  dragonism 
of  their  governess,  just  beginning  to  taste  the  refined 
enjoyments  of  sentimental,  confidential,  soul-breathing 
■♦■correspondence  with  some  Angelina,  Seraphina,  or 
Laura  Matilda;  to  indite  beautiful  little  notes,  with 
long-tailed  letters,  upon  vellum  paper,  with  pink 
margins,  sealed  with  sweet  '♦'mottoes,  and  dainty  devices, 
the  whole  deliciously  perfumed  with  musk  and  attar  of 
roses;  young  ladies  who  collect  “copies  of  verses,”  and 
charades,  keep  '♦'albums,  copy  patterns,  make  bread 
seals,  work  little  dogs  upon  footstools,  and  paint  flowers 
without  shadow — Oh!  no!  the  epistolary  steam  engine 
will  never  come  into  '♦‘vogue  with  those  dear  creatures. 
They  must  enjoy  the  “feast  of  reason,  and  the  flow  of 
soul,”  and  they  must  write — yes!  and  how  they  do  write! 

7.  But  for  another  genus  of  female  scribes,  unhappy 
Innocents!  who  groan  in  spirit  at  the  dire  necessity  of 
having  to  hammer  out  one  of  those  aforesaid  terrible 
epistles ; who,  having  in  due  form  dated  the  gilt-edged 
sheet  that  lies  outspread  before  them  in  appalling  white- 
ness, having  also  '♦'felicitously  '♦'achieved  the  graceful 
exordium,  “My  dear  Mrs.  or  “My  dear  Lady  Y,”  or 

“ My  dear any  thing  else,”  feel  that  they  are  in  for  ity 

and  must  say  something!  Oh,  that  something  that  must 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


293 


como  of  nothing!  those  bricks  tliat  must  be  made  with- 
out straw!  those  pages  that  must  be  filled  with  words! 
yea,  with  words  that  must  be  sewed  into  sentences! 
yea,  with  sentences  that  must  seem  to  mean  something: 
the  whole  to  be  tacked  together,  all  neatly  fitted  and 
'^dovetailed  so  as  to  form  one  smooth  polished  surface ! 

8.  What  were  the  labors  of  Hercules  to  such  a task  ? 
The  very  thought  of  it  puts  me  into  a mental  perspira- 
tion; and,  from  my  inmost  soul,  I compassionate  the 
unfortunates  now  (at  this  very  moment,  perhaps), 
screwed  up  ’’'perpendicularly  in  the  seat  of  torture,  hav- 
ing in  the  right  hand  a fresh-nibbed  patent  pen,  dipped 
ever  and  anon  into  the  ink  bottle,  as  if  to  hook  up  ideas, 
and  under  the  outspread  palm  of  fhe  left  hand  a fair 
sheet  of  best  Bath  post  (ready  to  receive  thoughts  yet 
unhatched),  on  which  their  eyes  are  riveted  with  a stare 
of  ■’'disconsolate  ’’'perplexity  infinitely  touching  to  a feel- 
ing mind. 

9.  To  such  unhappy  persons,  in  whose  miseries  I 

deeply  sympathize Have  I not  groaned  under  similar 

horrors,  from  the  hour  when  I was  first  shut  up  (under 
lock  and  key,  I believe),  to  indite  a dutiful  epistle  to  an 
honored  aunt?  I remember,  as  if  it  were  yesterday,  the 
moment  when  she,  who  had  enjoined  the  task,  entered  to 
inspect  the  ’’'performance,  which,  by  her  ’’'calculation, 
should  have  been  fully  completed.  I remember  how 
sheepishly  I hung  down  my  head,  when  she  snatched 
from  before  me  the  paper  (on  which  I had  made  no 
farther  progress  than  “My  dear  ant”),  angrily  exclaim- 
ing, “What,  child!  have  you  been  shut  up  here  three 
hours,  to  call  your  aunt  a pismire?” 

10.  From  that  hour  of  humiliation  I have  too  often 
groaned  under  the  ’’’endurance  of  similar  penance,  and 
I have  learned  from  my  own  sufferings  to  ’’’compas- 
sionate those  of  my  dear  sisters  in  affliction.  To  such 
unhappy  persons,  then,  I would  fain  offer  a few  hints 
(the  fruit  of  long  experience),  which,  if  they  have  not 
already  been  suggested  by  their  own  observation,  may 
prove  serviceable  in  the  hour  of  ’’'emergency. 


294 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


11.  Let  thein or  suppose  I address  myself  to  one 

particular  sufferer — there  is  something  more  confidential 
in  that  manner  of  communicating  one’s  ideas.  As  Moore 
says,  “Heart  speaks  to  heart.”  I say,  then,  take  always 
special  care  to  write  by  candlelight,  for  not  only  is  the 
apparently  unimportant  operation  of  snuffing  the  candle 
in  itself  a momentary  relief  to  the  dejoressing  conscious- 
ness of  mental  ^vacuum,  but  not  iinfrequently  that 
trifling  act,  or  the  brightening  flame  of  the  taper,  elicits, 
as  it  were,  from  the  dull  embers  of  fancy,  a sympathetic 
spark  of  fortunate  conception.  When  such  a one  occurs, 
seize  it  quickly  and  +dextrously,  but,  at  the  same  time, 
with  such  cautious  prudence,  as  not  to  huddle  up  and 
contract  in  one  short,  paltry  sentence,  that  which,  if  in- 
geniously handled,  may  be  wiredrawn,  so  as  to  undulate 
gracefully  and  smoothly  over  a whole  page. 

12.  For  the  more  ready  practice  of  this  invaluable  art 
of  dilating,  it  will  be  expedient  to  stock  your  memory 
with  a large  assortment  of  those  precious  words  of  many 
syllables,  that  fill  whole  lines  at  once:  “incomprehensi- 
bly, amazingly,  decidedly,  solicitously,  inconceivably, 
incontrovertibly.”  An  opportunity  of  using  these,  is,  to 
a distressed  spinster,  as  delightful  as  a copy  all  m’s  and 
ns  to  a child.  “Command  you  may,  your  mind  from 
play.”  They  run  on  with  such  delicious  smoothnessJ 

Questions. — How  must  epistolary  intercourse,  or  letter  writing  be 
conducted,  in  order  to  be  agreeable  and  useful  ? What  manner  of 
conducting  it  is  ridiculed  in  this  lesson  ? What  is  meant  by  talking 
nonsense  ? 

Parse  “them,”  in  the  lltli  paragraph.  What  word  may  be  under- 
stood after  it?  Parse  “dilating”  in  the  12th  paragraph.  Parse  “in- 
comprehensibly,” “amazingly,”  &c.,  in  the  same  paragraph.  Parse 
“m's”  and  “n’s.”  Parse  “all.”  Parse  “run  on”  in  the  last  sen- 
tence. What  is  the  subject  and  what  the  attribute?  See  Pinneo’s 
Analytical  Grammar,  page  140,  Ex.  100. 


ECLECTIC  SElilES. 


295 


LESSON  LXXXV. 


Ed-rous^ED;  V,  embraced. 

Dis  AS^-TROUS ; adj.  unfortu- 
nate. 

1 Low''-lands  n.  the  south  of 
Scotland,  called  thus  because 
the  land  lies  comparatively 
low.  The  northern  part  is 
called  the  Highlands,  because 
it  is  hilly. 

1.  Pran^-ces  ; V.  bounds  as  a high 
spirited  horse  does. 

3.  Peek;  v,  to  give  out  steam  or 

vapor. 

4.  Go^-ryj  adj.  bloody. 

4.  Do^-tard  ; n.  a foolish  old  man. 


4.  Piian^-tom;  n.  a specter,  an  ap- 
parition. 

6.  A^e-rie;  n.  (pro.  a^-ry^ov  e'-ry) 
an  eagle’s  nest. 

6.  Crest^-ed;  adj.  wearing  a 
plum^;  here  used  figuratively 
for  proud,  lofty.  [equal. 

6.  Peer^-less;  adj.  having  no 

7.  Clat^-more  ; n.  a two-handled 
sword  used  by  the  Scotch. 

8.  Mys^-tic-al  ; adj.  secret,  ob- 
scure. 

8.  Lore;  n.  knowledge,  instruc- 
tion. [false. 

11.  SooTH^'-LESs ; adj.  truthless, 


LOCHIEL’S  WARNING. 

Remark.— Be  careful  not  to  slip  over  or  mispronounce  the  small 
words. 

Lochiel  was  a brave  and  influential  Highland  chieftain.  He  es- 
poused the  cause  of  Charles  Stuart,  called  the  Pretender,  who  claimed 
the  British  throne.  In  the  following  piece,  he  is  supposed  to  bd 
marching  with  the  warriors  of  his  clan,  to  join  Charles’  army.  On 
his  way  he  is  met  by  a Seer,  who,  having,  according  to  the  popular 
superstition,  the  gift  of  second  sight,  or  prophesy,  forewarns  him  of 
the  disastrous  event  of  the  ^enterprise,  and  exhorts  him  to  return 
home,  and  avoid  the  destruction  which  certainly  awaited  him,  and 
which  afterward  fell  upon  him  at  the  battle  of  Culloden,  in  1745. 

1.  Seer.  Lochiel  ! Lochiel ! beware  of  the  day 

When  the  lowlands  shall  meet  thee  in  battle  array ! 
For  a field  of  the  dead  rushes  red  on  my  sight, 

And  the  clans  of  Culloden  are  scattered  in  fight ; 

They  rally,  they  bleed,  for  their  kingdom  and  crown  ; 
Woe,  woe  to  the  riders  that  '’’trample  them  down  ! 
Proud  Cumberland  prances,  insulting  the  slain. 

And  their  hoof-beaten^ bosoms  are  trod  to  the  plain. 


2.  But  hark!  through  the  fast- flashing  lightning  of  war, 
What  steed  to  the  desert  flies  tfrantic  and  far? 


296 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


’T  is  thine,  oh,  Glenullin  ! whose  bride  shall  await, 
Jjike  a love-lighted  watchfire,  all  night  at  the  gate 
A steed  comes  at  morning  ; no  rider  is  there ; 

But  its  bridle  is  red  with  the  sign  of  despair. 

H Weep,  Albin  !*  to  death  and  ’’'captivity  led! 

Oh  weep,  but  thy  tears  can  not  number  the  dead  ; 

For  a merciless  sword  on  Culloden  shall  wave, 
Culloden  I that  reeks  with  the  blood  of  the  brave. 

4.  LocMel.  Go,  preach  to  the  coward,  thou  death-tellings 

seer ! 

Or,  if  gory  Culloden  so  dreadful  appear. 

Draw,  dotard,  around  thy  old  "’'wavering  sight. 

This  mantle,  to  cover  the  phantom  of  fright. 

5.  Seer.  Ha  I laugh’st  thou,  Lochiel,  my  vision  to  scorn? 
Proud  bird  of  the  mountain,  thy  plume  shall  be  torn  I 
Say,  rushed  the  bold  eagle  "’"exultingly  forth. 

From  his  home,  in  the  dark-rolling  clouds  of  .the  north? 
Lo  I the  death-shot  of  foemen  out-speeding,  he  rode. 
Companionless,  bearing  destruction  abroad ; 

But  down  let  him  stoop  from  his  "’'havoc  on  high  I 
Ah ! home  let  him  speed,  for  the  spoiler  is  nigh. 

6.  Why  flames  the  far  summit?  Why  shoot  to  the  blast 
Those  embers,  like  stars  from  the  firmament  cast  ? 

’T  is  the  fire  shower  of  ruin,  all  dreadfully  driven 
From  his  aerie  that  "’"beacons  the  darkness  of  heaven. 
Oh  crested  Lochiel  I the  peerless  in  might. 

Whose  banners  arise  on  the  "’"battlements’  hight ; 
Heaven’s  fire  is  around  thee,  to  blast  and  to  burn  ; 
Keturn  to  thy  dwelling ! all  lonely  return  ! 

For  the  blackness  of  ashes  shall  mark  where  it  stood, 
And  a wild  mother  scream  o’er  her  famishing  brood. 

7.  Lcch.  False  Wizard,  avaunt!  I have  marshaled  my  clan; 
Their  swords  are  a thousand,  their  bosoms  are  one  ! 
They  are  true  to  the  last  of  their  blood  and  their 

breath. 


* The  poetic  name  for  Scotland,  more  particularly  the  Highlands. 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


297 


And  li‘ke  reapers  descend  to  the  harvest  of  death. 
Then  welcome  he  Cumberland’s  steed  to  the  shock ! 
Let  him  dash  his  proud  foam  like  a wave  on  the  rock  I 
But  woe  to  his  kindred,  and  woe  to  his  cause, 

When  Albin  her  claymore  '’’indignantly  draws ; 

When  her  bonneted  chieftains  to  victory  crowd, 

Clan  Eanald  the  '’'dauntless,  and  Moray  the  proud; 
All  plaided  and  plumed  in  their  tartan  array — 

8 Seer.  Lochiel,  Lochiel,  beware  of  the  day  I 

For,  dark  and  despairing,  my  sight  I may  seal, 

But  man  can  not  cover  what  God  would  reveal  : 

’Tis  the  sunset  of  life  gives  me  mystical  lore. 

And  coming  events  cast  their  shadows  before. 

9.  I tell  thee  Culloden’s  dread  echoes  shall  ring 

With  the  bloodhounds  that  bark  for  thy  fugitive  king. 
Lo!  anointed  by  heaven  with  the  vials  of  wrath. 
Behold  where  he  flies  on  his  '’'desolate  path  ! 

Now,  in  darkness  and  billows,  he  s\^eeps  from  my 
sight  :* 

Eise  ! rise  I ye  wild  tempests,  and  cover  his  flight ! 

10.  ’T  is  finished.  Their  thunders  are  hushed  on  the  moors; 
Culloden  is  lost,  and  my  country  ’’'deplores. 

But  where  is  the  iron-bound  prisoner  ?f  Where? 

For  the  red  eye  of  battle  is  shut  in  despair ; 

Say,  mounts  he  the  ocean  wave,  banished,  ^forlorn. 
Like  a limb  from  his  country,  cast  bleeding  and  torn? 
Ah  no ! for  a darker  departure  is  near; 

The  war  drum  is  ’’'muffled,  and  black  is  the  bier ; 

His  death-bell  is  tolling ; oh  ! mercy  ! dispel 
Yon  sight  that  it  freezes  my  spirit  to  tell ! 

Life  flutters  ’’'convulsed  in  his  quivering  limbs. 

And  his  blood-streaming  nostril  in  ’’'agony  swims. 
Accursed  be  the  faggots  that  blaze  at  his  feet. 

Where  his  heart  shall  be  thrown,  ere  it  ceases  to  beat, 
With  the  smoke  of  its  ashes  to  poison  the  gale — 

* Alluding  to  the  narrow  escape  of  Charles  by  water  from  the  west 
of  Scotland. 

t He  refers  here  to  Lochiel. 


298 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


11.  Loch  Down,  sootliless  insulter!  1 trust  not  the  tale, 
Though  my  perishing  ranks  should  bo  strewed  in  their 
gore. 

Like  ocean  weeds  heaped  on  the  '^surf-beaten  shore. 
Lochiel,  '•'untainted  by  flight  or  by  chains. 

While  the  kindling  of  life  in  his  bosom  remains, 
Shall  victor  '•'exult,  or  in  death  be  laid  low. 

With  his  back  to  the  field,  and  his  feet  to  the  foe ! 
And  leaving  in  battle  no  blot  on  his  name. 

Look  proudly  to  heaven  from  the  death  bed  of  fame. 

Questions. — Who  was  Lochiel?  For  whom  did  he  fight?  What  is 
meant  by  a Seer  ? What  do  you  understand  by  their  bosoms  being 
“ hoof-beaten?”  How  did  Lochiel  reply  to  the  warning  of  the  Seer? 
What  became  of  the  King,  or  Pretender,  as  he  was  called? 


LESSON  LXXXVI.i'^ 


1.  In'-ter-views  ; n.  meetings, 

mutual  sight  or  view. 

2.  Rav^-age;  w.  waste,  ruin. 

2.  Un-knelled^  ; v.  without  the 

tolling  of  a bell  at  one’s  fu- 
neral. 

3.  Arm^-a-ment  ; n,  a body  of  na- 

val forces  equipped  for  war ; 
ships  of  war. 

3.  Le-vi^-a-than  , n.  a huge  sea 
animal ; here  med  figuratively 
for  ships. 


3.  Ar^-bi-ter;  n.  one  who  con- 
trols or  decides  between 
others. 

3.  \’'est-''';  n.  (the  same  as  yeast)^ 

the  foam  of  the  sea. 

4.  Realms  ; n.  kingdoms. 

4.  Az^'-ure  ; adj.  blue,  like  the  sky. 

5.  Glass^-eS'=''  ; v.  mirrors  as  in  a 

glass. 

5.  Slime  ; n.  sticky  mud. 

5.  Zone  ; n.  a division  of  the 
earth. 


APOSTROPHE  TO  THE  OCEAN. 

Remark. — Be  careful  to  speak  such  little  words  as  6y,  m,  o«,  a,  and^ 
at^  ofi  with^for^  to^from^  through^  the^  &c.,  very  distinctly,  and  yet  not  to 
dwell  on  them  so  long  as  on  other  more  important  words. 

1.  There  is  a pleasure  in  the  pathless  woods. 

There  is  a '•'rapture  on  the  lonely  shore, 

^ Throughout  this  work,  that  definition  is  given  which  belongs  to 
the  word  as  it  is  used  in  the  lesson.  This  meaning  is  frequently 
figurative. 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


299 


There  is  society  where  none  '^intrudes 
By  the  deep  sea,  and  music  in  its  roar. 

I love  not  man  the  less,  but  ISTature  more, 

From  these  our  interviews,  in  which  I steal 
From  all  I may  be,  or  have  been  before, 

To  mingle  with  the  universe  and  feel 

What  I can  ne’er  express,  yet  can  not  all  ^conceal. 

2 Eoll  on,  thou  deep  and  dark  blue  ocean,  roll ! 

Ten  thousand  fleets  sweep  over  thee  in  vain ; 

Man  marks  the  earth  with  ruin,  his  '^control 
Stops  with  the  shore  ; upon  the  watery  plain 
The  '^wrecks  are  all  thy  deed,  nor  doth  remain 
A shadow  of  man’s  ravage,  save  his  own. 

When  for  a moment,  like  a drop  of  rain. 

He  sinks  into  thy  depths  with  bubbling  groan, 
Without  a grave,  unknelled,  Hincoffined,  and  un- 
known. 

>l<  ^ 

3.  The  armaments  which  thunder  strike  the  walls 

Of  rock-built  cities,  bidding  nations  '^'quake, 

And  monarchs  tremble  in  their  "^capitals ; 

The  oak  leviathans,  whose  huge  ribs  make 
Their  clay  creator  the  vain  title  take 
Of  lord  of  thee,  and  arbiter  of  war ; 

These  are  thy  toys,  and,  as  the  snowy  ‘^'flake. 

They  melt  into  the  yest  of  waves,  which  mar 
Alike  the  Armada’s  pride,  or  spoils  of  Trafalgar. 

4.  Thy  shores  are  ‘^'empires,  changed  in  all  save  thee  ; 

Assyria,  Greece,  Koine,  Carthage — what  are  they  ? 
Thy  waters  wasted  them  while  they  were  free. 

And  many  a Hyrant  since ; their  shores  obey 
The  stranger,  slave,  or  savage ; their  decay 
Has  dried  up  ^realms  to  deserts ; not  so  thou, 
'^‘Unchangeable  save  to  thy  wild  waves’  play; 

Time  writes  no  wrinkles  on  thy  azure  brow ; 

Such  as  creation’s  dawn  beheld,  thou  rollest  now. 

5.  Thou  glorious  '•‘mirror,  where  the  Almighty’s  form 

Glasses  itself  in  tenijoests ; in  all  time, 


300 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


Calm  or  '^convulsed;  in  breeze,  or  gale,  or  storm, 
Icing  the  pole,  or  in  the  torrid  clime, 

Dark  heaving;  boundless,  endless,  and  '**sublime, 
The  image  of  Eternity,  the  throne 

Of  the  Invisible ; even  from  out  thy  slime 
diie  ■^'monsters  of  the  deep  are  made;  each  zone 
Obeys  thee ; thou  goest  forth,  dread,  '‘'fathomless, 
alone. 

Questions. — What  is  meant  by  “oak  leviathans?”  How  is  the 
ocean  the  image  of  eternity  ? Where  is  Trafalgar,  and  for  what  is  it 
celebrated?  Where  was  Assyria ? Rome?  Greece?  Carthage? 


LESSON  LXXXVII.  / 


8.  Rat-an^;  n.  a small  cane 
which  grows  in  India. 

8.  Par^-ley;  n.  conversation  or 
conference  with  an  enemy. 

11.  Im-pre-ca^-tions  ; n.  curses, 

praySrs  for  evil. 

12.  In-dom^-i-ta-ble;  adj.  that 

can  not  be  subdued  or 
tamed. 

16.  Quell  ; v,  to  subdue,  to  crush. 

17.  Blenched;  v.  gave  way, 

shrunk. 

19.  Car^-nage;  n.  slaughter. 

19.  Re-prieve^;  n.  a delay  of 

punishment.  [place. 

20.  Ex^'-it;  n,  passage  out  of  a 


REBELLION  IN  MASSACHUSETTS  STATE  PRISON. 

1.  A MORE  ‘‘'impressive  ‘‘'exhibition  of  moral  courage, 
opposed  to  the  wildest  ‘‘'ferocity,  under  the  most  ‘‘'appall- 
ing circumstances,  was  never  seen,  than  that  which  was 
witnessed,  by  the  officers  of  our  State  Prison,  in  the 
rebellion  which  occurred  about  five  years  since. 

2.  Three  convicts  had  been  sentenced  under  the  rules 
of  the  prison  to  be  whipped  in  the  yard,  and  by  some 
effort  of  one  of  the  other  prisoners,  a door  had  been 


2.  UON'-viCTS;  n.  persons  lound 
guilty  of  crime. 

2.  War^-den;  n.  a keeper,  one 
who  guards. 

4.  Brig^-ands;  n,  robbe^,  those 

who  live  by  plunder. 

5.  Mot^-ley;  adj.  composed  of 

various  colors. 

5.  De-mo^-ni-ac  ; adj.  devil-like. 

6.  Sub-or^-di-nate;  adj.  inferior. 

6.  Per^-il;  n.  danger. 

7.  Ma>rines^;  n.  (pro.  ma-reens^) 

soldiers  that  serve  on  board 
of  ships. 

7.  De-mean^-or;  n,  behavior,  de- 
portment. 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


301 


opened  at  midday  +commimicating  with  the  great  dining 
hall,  and  through  the  warden’s  lodge  with  the  street. 

3.  The  dining  hall  is  long,  dark,  and  damp,  from  its 
situation  near  the  surface  of  the  ground;  and  in  this  all 
the  prisoners  assembled,  with  clubs„  and  such  tools  as 
they  could  seize  in  passing  through  the  work  shops. 

4.  Knives,  hammers,  and  chisels,  with  every  variety 
of  such  weapons,  were  in  the  hands  of  the  ferocious 
spirits,  who  are  drawn  away  from  their  ‘‘'encroachments 
on  society,  forming  a '‘‘congregation  of  strength,  vileness, 
and  talent,  that  can  hardly  be  equaled  on  earth,  even 
among  the  famed  brigands  of  Italy. 

5.  Men  of  all  ages  and  characters,  guilty  of  every 
variety  of  ‘‘‘infamous  crime,  dressed  in  the  motley  and 
peculiar  garb  of  the  institution,  and  displaying  the  wild 
and  demoniac  appearance  that  always  pertains  to  im- 
prisoned wretches,  were  gathered  together  for  the  single 
purpose  of  preventing  the  punishment  which  was  to  be 
inflicted  on  the  morrow,  upon  their  ‘‘‘comrades. 

6.  The  warden,  the  surgeon,  anc!  some  other  officers 
of  the  prison,  were  there  at  the  time,  and  were  alarmed 
at  the  consequences  likely  to  ensue  from  the  ‘‘‘conflict 
necessary  to  restore  order.  They  huddled  together,  and 
could  scarcely  be  said  to  consult,  as  the  stoutest  among 
them  lost  all  presence  of  mind  in  overwhelming  fear. 
The  news  rapidly  spread  through  ttie  town,  and  a sub- 
ordinate officer,  of  most  mild  and  kind  ‘‘‘disposition,  hur- 
ried to  the  scene,  and  came  calm  and  collected  into  the 
midst  of  the  officers.  The  most  ‘‘‘equable-tempered  and 
the  mildest  man  in  the  government,  was  in  this  hour  of 
peril  the  firmest. 

7.  He  instantly  dispatched  a request  to  Major  Wair.- 
right,  commander  of  the  marines  ‘‘‘stationed  at  the  navy 
yard,  for  assistance,  and  declared  his  purpose  to  enter 
into  the  hall  and  try  the  force  of  firm  demeanor  and 
‘‘■persuasion  upon  the  enraged  multitude. 

8.  All  his  brethren  exclaimed  against  an  attempt  so 
full  of  hazard  ; but  in  vain.  They  offered  him  arms,  a 
sword  and  pistols,  but  he  refused  them,  and#said,  that  ho 


302 


NEW  FIFTH  READER 


had  no  fear,  and  in  case  of  danger,  arms  would  do  him 
no  service : and  alone,  with  only  a little  ratan,  which 
was  his  usual  walking  stick,  he  advanced  into  the  hall, 
to  hold  parley  with  the  selected,  '’'congregated,  and  en- 
raged villains  of  the  whole  '’’commonwealth. 

9.  He  demanded  their  purpose,  in  thus  coming  to- 
gether with  arms,  in  violation  of  the  prison  laws. 
They  replied,  ,that  they  were  determined  to  obtain  the 
remission  of  the  punishment  of  their  three  comrades. 
He  said,  it  was  impossible ; the  rules  of  the  prison  must 
be  obeyed,  and  they  must  submit. 

10.  At  the  hint  of  submission,  they  drew  a little 
nearer  together,  prepared  dieir  weapons  for  service,  and 
as  they  were  dimly  seen  in  the  further  end  of  the  hall, 
by  those  who  observed,  from  the  gratings  that  opened 
up  to  the  day,  a more  appalling  sight  can  not  be  con- 
ceived, nor  one  of  more  moral  '’'grandeur,  than  that  of 
the  single  man,  standing  within  their  grasp,  and  exposed 
to  be  torn  limb  from  limb  instantly,  if  a word  or  look 
should  add  to  the  already  '’'intense  excitement. 

11.  That  excitement,  too,  was  of  a most  dangerous 
kind.  It  broke  not  forth  in  noise  and  imprecations,  but 
was  seen  only  in  the  dark  looks  and  the  strained  nerves, 
that  showed  a deep  determination.  The  officer  ’'expostu- 
lated. He  reminded  them  of  the  '’'hopelessness  of  escape  ; 
that  the  town  was  alarmed,  and  that  the  government  of 
the  prison  would  submit  to  nothing  but  unconditional 
surrender.  He  said,  that  all  those  who  would  go  quietly 
away,  should  be  forgiven  for  this  offense ; but,  that  if 
every  prisoner  was  killed  in  the  contest,  power  enough 
would  be  obtained  to  enforce  the  regulations  of  the 
jndson. 

12.  They  replied,  that  they  expected  that  some  would 
be  killed,  that  death  would  be  better  than  such  impris- 
onment, and  with  that  look  and  tone,  which  bespeaks  an 
indomitable  purpose,  they  declared,  that  not  a man 
should  leave  the  hall  alive,  till  the  flogging  was  remitted. 
At  this  period  of  the  '’'discussion,  their  evil  passions 
seemed  to  be  more  inflamed,  and  one  or  two  offered  to 


KC  LECTIO  SEUl  E S. 


303 


destroy  the  officer,  who  still  stood  firmer,  and  with  a 
more  temperate  pulse,  than  did  his  friends,  who  saw 
from  above,  but  could  not  '•'avert  the  danger  that  threat- 
ened him. 

13.  Just  at  this  moment,  and  in  about  fifteen  minutes 
from  the  '•'commencement  of  the  tumult,  the  officer  saw 
the  feet  of  the  marines,  whose  presence  alone  he  relied 
on  for  '•'succor,  filing  by  the  small  upper  lights.  Without 
any  apparent  anxiety,  he  had  repeatedly  turned  his  at- 
tention to  their  apj)roach,  and  now  he  knew  that  it  was 
his  only  time  to  escape,  before  a '•'conflict  for  life  became, 
as  was  expected,  one  of  the  most  dark  and  dreadful  in 
the  world. 

14.  He  stepped  slowly  backward,  still  urging  them  to 
depart,  before  the  officers  were  driven  to  use  the  last  re- 
sort of  firearms.  AYhen  within  three  or  four  feet  of  the 
door,  it  Avas  opened,  and  closed  instantly  again,  as  he 
sprang  through,  and  Avas  thus  unexpectedly  restored  to 
his  friends. 

15.  Major  Wainright  Avas  requested  to  order  his 
men  to  fire  doAvn  upon  the  convicts  through  the  little 
windoAVS,  first  with  powder  and  then  AAnth  ball,  till  they 
Avere  Avilling  to  retreat ; but  he  took  a Aviser  as  Avell  as  a 
bolder  course,  relying  upon  the  effect  Avhicli  firm  deter- 
mination would  haA^e  upon  men  so  '•'critically  situated. 
He  ordered  the  door  to  be  again  opened,  and  marched  in 
at, the  head  of  tAventy  or  thirty  men,  Avho  filed  through 
the  passage,  and  formed  at  the  end  of  the  hall,  opposite 
to  the  croAvd  of  criminals  '•'huddled  together  at  the  other. 

16.  He  stated  that  he  Avas  empowered  to  quell  the  re- 
bellion, that  he  wished  to  UA^oid  shedding  blood,  but  that 
he  should  not  quit  that  haU  aliA^e,  till  eA^ery  convict  had 
returned  to  his  duty.  They  seemed  '•'balancing  the 
strength  of  the  tAvo  parties  ; and  replied,  that  some  of 
them  were  ready  to  die,  and  only  AAUiited  for  an  attack  to 
see  Avhich  Avas  the  most  poAverful,  SAvearing  that  they 
would  fight  to  the  last,  unless  the  punishment  Avas  remit- 
ted, for  they  Avould  not  submit  to  any  such  punishment 
in  the  prison.  Major  Wainright  ordered  his  marines  to 
load  their  pieces,  and,  that  they  might  not  be  suspected 


804 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


of  trifling  each  man  was  made  to  hold  up  to  view  the 
bullet  which  he  afterward  put  in  his  gun. 

17.  This  only  caused  a growl  of  determination,  and 
no  one  blenched,  or  seemed  disposed  to  shrink  from  the 
foremost  '^exposure.  They  knew  that  their  number 
would  enable  them  to  bear  down  and  destroy  the  hand- 
ful of  marines,  after  the  first  discharge,  and  before  theii 
pieces  could  be  reloaded.  Again,  they  were  ordered  to 
retire  ; but  they  answered  with  more  ferocity  than  ever. 
The  marines  were  ordered  to  take  their  aim  so  as  to  be 
sure  and  kill  as  many  as  possible.  Their  guns  were  pre- 
sented, but  not  a prisoner  stirred,  except  to  grasp  more 
firmly  his  weapon. 

18.  Still  desirous  to  avoid  such  a ‘^tremendous  slaugh- 
ter, as  must  have  followed  the  discharge  of  a single  gun, 
Major  Wainright  advanced  a step  or  two,  and  spoke 
even  more  firmly  than  before,  urging  them  to  depart. 
Again,  and  while  looking  directly  into  the  muzzles  of 
the  guns,  which  they  had  seen  loaded  with  ball,  they 
declared  their  intention  “ to  fight  it  out.”  This  '^'intrepid 
officer  then  took  out  his  watch,  and  told  his  men  to  hold 
their  pieces  aimed  at  the  convicts,  but  not  to  fire  till 
they  had  orders ; then,  turning  to  the  prisoners,  he  said, 
“ You  must  leave  this  hall ; I give  you  three  minutes  to 
decide;  if  at  the  end  of  that  time,  a man  remains,  he 
shall  be-shot  dead.” 

19.  No  situation  of  greater  interest  than  this,  can  be 
conceived.  At  one  end  of  the  hall,  a fearful  multitude 
of  the  most  "^desperate  and  powerful  men  in  existence, 
waiting  for  the  "^assault ; at  the  other,  a little  band  of 
^disciplined  men,  waiting  with  arms  presented,  and 
ready,  upon  the  least  motion  or  sign,  to  begin  the 
carnage  ; and  their  tall  and  imposing  commander,  hold- 
ing up  his  watch  to  count  the  lapse  of  three  minutes, 
given  as  the  reprieve  to  the  lives  of  hundreds.  No  poet 
or  painter  can  conceive  of  a spectacle  of  more  dark  and 
terrible  ‘‘‘sublimity ; no  human  heart  can  conceive  a 
situation  of  more  appalling  suspense. 

20.  For  two  ininutes,  not  a person  nor  a muscle  was 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


305 


moved,  not  a sound  was  heard  in  the  unwonted  stidness 
of  the  prison,  except  the  labored  breathings  of  the  ^in- 
furiated  wretches,  as  they  began  to  pant,  between  fear 
and  revenge:  at  the  expiration  of  two  minutes,  during 
which  they  had  faced  the  ministers  of  death  with  ■**un- 
blenching  eyes,  two  or  three  of  those  in  the  rear,  and 
nearest  the  further  entrance,  wont  slowly  out:  a few 
more  followed  the  example,  dropping  out  quietly  and 
tdeliberately ; and  before  half  of  the  last  minute  was 
gone;  every  man  was  struck  by  the  j)anic,  and  crowded 
for  an  exit,  and  the  hall  was  cleared  as  if  by  magic. 

21.  Thus  the  steady  firmness  of  moral  force,  and  the 
strong  effect  of '^determination,  acting  deliberately,  awed 
the  most  savage  men,  and  "^'suppressed  a scene  of  car- 
nage, which  would  have  instantly  followed  the  least 
■‘■precipitancy  or  exertion  of  physical  force. 

Questions. — Give  an  account  of  the  scene  described  in  this  lesson. 
What  accounts  for  the  conduct  of  the  subordinate  officer,  who,  though 
ordinarily  the  mildest,  was  on  this  occasion  the  firmest?  Suppose 
Major  W.  had  fired  through  the  windows,  as  he  was  advised,  what 
would  have  been,  in  all  probability,  the  result?  What  gained  this 
bloodless  victory  ? 

Explain  the  inflections,  and  point  out  the  emphatic  words  in  the 
last  two  paragraphs. 


EXERCISE  XXXYIII. 

Oi'h^dj  T^Yob^sty  troublst,  troubleSy  iroubrsty  ribsy  Tobb’sty  handrdy 

fondl’sty  hvendtliSy  laugh^sty  dar'k^ns,  d^irkhi^dy  dii7dc’ ii^ sty  darlh  ii^dstj 

BtTQngiJi’n,  stvength’nsy  Btrengik’n^dj  strengih’n^st,  siiength^n^dst. 


5 til  R. — 2() 


30G 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


LESSON  LXXXVIII.^ 


1.  REC-oa-Ni'-TiON ; n acknowl- 

edgment. 

2.  Fab^-ric,  n.  any  system  com- 

posed of  connected  parts. 

2.  E-ra-'sed  ; V.  blotted  out. 

8.  Per^-pe-tra-tor,  n.  one  that 
commits  a crime. 


3.  Ex-tinc^-tion  ; n.  a putting  an 

end  to 

4.  Fer^-til-ize  ; V.  to  make  fruit- 

ful. 

4.  A^-the-ism  ; n.  disbelief  in  God. 
4.  Sens-u-al^-i-ty  ; n.  indulgence 
in  animal  pleasure. 


RELIGION,  THE  ONLY  BASIS  OF  SOCIETY. 

Articulate  clearly  all  the  consonants  in  the  following  and 
similar  words  in  this  lesson : stability,  prosperity,  interested,  prin- 
ciples, friend,  suspect,  comprehends,  fabric,  concerns,  itself,  im- 
provements, perpetrator,  extinction,  describe,  unprotected,  trample, 
restraints. 

1.  Keligion  is  a social  concern ; for  it  operates  power- 
fully on  society,  '^'contributing,  in  various  ways  to  its 
stability  and  prosperity.  Eeligion  is  not  merely  a pri- 
vate affair;  the  '^community  is  deeply  interested  in  its 
■♦■difrusion;  for  it  is  the  best  support  of  the  virtues  and 
principles,  on  which  the  social  order  rests.  Pure  and 
undefiled  religion  is,  to  do  good ; and  it  follows,  very 
plainly,  that,  if  God  be  the  Author  and  Friend  of  society, 
then,  the  recognition  of  him  must  enforce  all  social  duty, 
and  enlightened  piety  must  give  its  whole  strength  to 
public  order. 

2.  Few  men  suspect,  perhaps  no  man  “^comprehends, 
the  extent  of  the  support  given  by  religion  to  every  vir- 
tue. NTo  man,  perhaps,  is  aware,  how  much  our  moral  and 
“’'social  sentiments  are  fed  from  this  fountain ; how'’'2DOwer- 
less  conscience  would  become  without  the  belief  of  a 
God ; how  palsied  would  be  human  benevolence,  were 
there  not  the  sense  of  a higher  benevolence  to  quicken 
and  sustain  it;  how  suddenly  the  whole  social  fabric 
would  quake,  and  with  what  a fearful  crash  it  would 
sink  into  hopeless  ruin,  were  the  ideas  of  a supreme 
Being,  of  '’'accountableness  and  of  a future  life,  to  be 
utterly  erased  from  every  mind. 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


307 


3.  And,  let  men  thoroughly  believe  that  they  are  the 
work  and  sport  of  chance ; that  no  superior  '‘'intelligence 
concerns  itself  with  human  affairs  ; that  all  their  im- 
provements perish  forever  at  death ; that  the  weak  have 
no  '‘'guardian,  and  the  injured  no  '‘'avenger ; that  there  is 
no  ■‘'recompense  for  sacrifices  to  uprightness  and  the 
public  good;  that  an  oath  is  unheard  in  heaven;  that 
secret  crimes  have  no  witness  but  the  perpetrator ; that 
human  existence  has  no  purpose,  and  human  virtue  no 
unfailing  friend ; that  this  brief  life  is  every  thing  to  us, 
and  death  is  total,  '‘'everlasting  extinction  ; once  let  them 
thoroughly  '‘'abandon  religion,  and  who  can  conceive  or 
describe  the  extent  of  the  desolation  which  would 
follow  ? 

4.  We  hope,  perhaps,  that  human  laws  and  natural 
sympathy  would  hold  society  together.  As  reasonably 
might  we  believe,  that  were  the  sun  quenched  in  the 
heavens,  our  torches  would  '‘'illuminate,  and  our  fires 
quicken  and  fertilize  the  creation.  What  is  there  in 
human  nature  to  awaken  respect  and  tenderness,  if  man 
is  the  ■‘'unprotected  insect  of  a day?  And  what  is  he 
more,  if  atheism  be  true? 

5.  Erase  all  thought  and  fear  of  God  from  a commu- 
nity, and  selfishness  and  sensuality  would  absorb  the 
whole  man.  Appetite,  knowing  no  restraint,  and  suffering, 
having  no  solace  or  hope,  would  trample  in  scorn  on  the 
restraints  of  human  laws.  Virtue,  duty,  principle,  would 
be  mocked  and  spurned  as  unmeaning  sounds.  A '‘'sordid 
self-interest  would  '‘'supplant  every  feeling ; and  man 
would  become,  in  fact,  what  the  theory  in  atheism  de- 
clares him  to  be, — a companion  for  brutes. 

Questions. — What  is  the  operation  of  religion  upon  society  ? What 
would  be  the  effect  of  the  removal  of  religion,  upon  the  whole  fabric 
of  virtue?  Why  would  not  human  laws  and  sympathies  hold  society 
together  ? 


308 


NEW  FIFTH  KEADER. 


LESSON  LXXXIX.v  / 


2.  Fer^-vex-cy  ; n.  warmtli.  | 5.  RE-VEAL''-iNG;t>.  making  know  a 

8.  Mim^-ics  ; V.  imitates.  1 7.  Ser''-aph  ; n.  an  angel. 


THE  THREE  SONS. 

1.  I HAYE  a son,  a little  son,  a boy  just  five  years  old. 

With  eyes  of  thoughtful  ^earnestness,  and  mind  of  gentle 
mold. 

They  tell  me  that  unusual  grace  in  all  his  ways  appears ; 

That  my  child  is  grave  and  wise  of  heart  beyond  his  childish 
years. 

2.  I can  not  say  how  this  may  be  ; I know  his  face  is  fair, 

And  yet  his  sweetest  tcomeliness  is  his  sweet  and  serious  air ; 
I know  his  heart  is  kind  and  fond,  I know  he  loveth  me. 

But  loveth  yet  his  mother  more,  with  grateful  fervency. 

But  that  which  others  most  admire  is  the  thought  which  fills 
his  mind; 

The  food  for  grave,  inquiring  speech  he  every  where  doth  find. 

3.  Strange  questions  doth  he  ask  of  me,  when  we  together  walk ; 
He  scarcely  thinks  as  children  think,  or  talks  as  children  talk. 
Nor  cares  he  much  for  childish  sports,  dotes  not  on  bat  or  ball. 
But  looks  on  manhood^s  ways  and  works,  and  aptly  mimics  all. 
Ilis  little  heart  is  busy  still,  and  oftentimes  perplexed 

With  thoughts  about  this  world  of  ours,  and  thoughts  about 
the  next. 

i . He  kneels  at  his  dear  mother^s  knee,  she  teaches  him  to  pray ; 
And  strange,  and  sweet,  and  solemn,  then,  are  the  words  which 
he  will  say. 

0,  should  my  gentle  child  be  spared  to  manhood^s  years  like 
me, 

A holier  and  a wiser  man  I trust  that  he  will  be  ; 

And  when  I look  into  his  eyes,  and  press  his  thoughtful  brow, 
I dare  not  think  what  I should  feel,  were  I to  lose  him  now. 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


309 


5,  I have  a son,  a second  son,  a simple  child  of  three  ; 

1^11  not  declare  how  bright  and  fair  his  little  features  be. 

How  silver  sweet  those  tones  of  his  when  he  -Iprattles  on  my 
knee : 

I do  not  think  his  light-blue  eye  is,  like  his  brother's,  keen. 
Nor  his  brow  so  full  of  childish  thought  as  his  has  ever  been  ; 
But  his  little  hearths  a '^‘fountain,  pure,  of  kind  and  tender 
feeling ; 

And  his  every  look^s  a gleam  of  light,  rich  depths  of  love 
revealing. 

When  he  walks  with  me,  the  country  folks,  who  pass  us  in  the 
street, 

Will  shout  for  joy,  and  bless  my  boy,  he  looks  so  mild  and 
sweet. 

6,  A playfellow  is  he  to  all,  and  yet  with  cheerful  tone 
Will  sing  his  little  song  of  love,  when  left  to  sport  alone. 

His  presence  is  like  sunshine  sent,  to  "^gladden  home  and 
hearth, 

To  comfort  us  in  all  our  griefs,  and  sweeten  all  our  mirth. 
Should  he  grow  up  to  riper  years,  God  grant  his  heart  may 
prove 

As  sweet  at  home  for  heavenly  grace  as  now  for  earthly  love  ; 
And  if,  beside  his  grave,  the  tears  our  aching  eyes  must  dim, 
God  comfort  us  for  all  the  love  that  we  shall  lose  in  him. 

7,  I have  a son,  a third  sweet  son  ; his  age  I can  not  tell, 

For  they  reckon  not  by  years  and  months  where  he  is  gone  to 
dwell. 

To  us  for  fourteen  "tanxious  months  his  infant  smiles  were  given. 
And  then  he  bid  firewell  to  earth,  and  went  to  live  in  heaven. 
I can  not  tell  what  form  his  is,  what  looks  he  weareth  now, 

Nor  guess  how  bright  a glory  crowns  his  shining  seraph  brow ; 
The  thoughts  that  fill  his  sinless  soul,  the  -tbliss  which  he  doth 

fe4l,^ 

Are  numbered  with  the  secret  things  which  God  will  not  +reveal 

8 But  I know  (for  God  hath  told  me  this)  that  he  is  now  at  rest, 
AV’here  other  blessed  infants  be,  on  their  Savior^s  loving  breast : 
I know  his  spirit  feels  no  more  this  weary  load  of  flesh. 

But  his  sleep  is  blessed  with  endless  dreams  of  joy  forever 
frcsli. 


310 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


I know  the  angels  fold  him  close  beneath  their  glittering  wings, 

And  soothe  him  with  a song  that  breathes  of  heaven’s  +divin- 
est  things. 

I know  that  we  shall  meet  our  babe  (his  mother  dear  and  I) 

Where  God  for  aye  shall  wipe  away  all  tears  from  every  eye. 

Whatever  befalls  his  brethren  twain,  his  bliss  can  never  cease  ; 

Their  lot  may  here  be  grief  and  fear,  but  his  is  certain  peace. 

9 It  may  be  that  the  tempter^s  wiles  their  souls  from  bliss  may 
sever. 

But,  if  our  own  poor  faith  fail  not,  he  must  be  ours  forever. 

When  we  think  of  what  our  (iarling  is,  and  what  we  still 
must  be  ; 

When  we  muse  on  that  world^s  perfect  bliss,  and  this  world^s 
misery  ; 

When  we  groan  beneath  this  load  of  sin,  and  feel  this  grief 
and  pain, 

0,  we’d  rather  lose  our  other  two,  than  have  him  here  agaia 

Questions. — How  many  sons  are  spoken  of?  What  is  said  of  the 
first?  Of  the  second?  Of  the  third? 


LESSON  XC.-^ 


1.  Gen^-ial;  cheerful. 

2.  En-am^-eled  ; v.  made  hard  and 

smooth. 

3.  Rev^-el-ry  ; n.  merriment. 

4.  Ec''-sta-sy;  n,  rapture. 


4.  Ur^-chin  ; n.  a child. 

5.  Var^-let;  w.  scoundrel. 

6.  Vo-LUPT^-u-A-RY ; n.  pleasure 

seeker.  [to  the  stomach. 

7.  Gas-tro-nomMc  ; adj,  relating 


THE  BOBLINK. 

1 

Articulate  distinctly.  Do  not  say  happies  for  hap-pi-es^;  poise 
for  poets  ; /iiZZes  for  full-es?; ; tinJdin  for  tink-lin^; /eeZ’n  for  feel 
in^  ; hiids  for  birds. 

1.  The  happiest  bird  of  our  spring,  however,  and  one 
that  rivals  the  European  lark  in  my  estimation,  is  the 
boblineon,  or  boblink,  as  he  is  commonly  called.  He 
arrives  at  that  choice  portion  of  our  year,  which,  in  this 
latitude,  answers  to  the  description  of  the  month  of  May 
so  often  given  by  the  poets.  With  us  it  begins  about  the 
middle  of  May,  and  lasts  until  nearly  the  middle  of 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


311 


Juno.  Earlier  than  this,  winter  is  apt  to  return  on  its 
traces,  and  to  blight  the  opening  beauties  of  the  year ; 
and  later  than  this,  begin  the  parching,  and  panting,  and 
'^'dissolving  heats  of  summer.  But  in  this  genial  inter- 
val, Nature  is  in  all  her  freshness  and  '^'fragrance : “the 
rains  are  over  and  gone,  the  flowers  appear  upon  the 
earth,  the  time  of  the  singing  of  birds  is  come,  and  the 
voice  of  the  turtle  is  heard  in  the  land.” 

2.  The  trees  are  now  in  their  fullest  '^'foliage  and 
brightest  verdure ; the  woods  are  gay  with  the  clustered 
flowers  of  the  laurel ; the  air  is  perfumed  with  the  sweet- 
brier  and  the  wild  rose ; the  meadows  are  enameled  with 
clover  blossoms ; while  the  young  apple,  peach,  and  the 
plum  begin  to  swell,  and  the  cherry  to  glow  among  the 
green  leaves. 

3.  This  is  the  chosen  season  of  revelry  of  the  boblink. 
He  comes  amid  the  pomp  and  fragrance  of  the  season ; 
his  life  seems  all  '^sensibility  and  enjoyment,  all  song  and 
sunshine.  He  is  to  be  found  in  the  soft  bosoms  of  the 
freshest  and  sweetest  meadows,  and  is  most  in  song  when 
the  clover  is  in  blossom.  He  '^perches  on  the  topmost 
twig  of  a tree,  or  on  some  long,  '^flaunting  weed,  and  as 
he  rises  and  sinks  with  the  breeze,  pours  forth  a '*'s ac- 
cession of  rich,  tinkling  notes,  crowding  one  upon 
another,  like  the  outpouring  melody  of  the  sky-lark, 
and  posse'ssing  the  same  "^rapturous  character. 

4.  Sometimes,  he  pitches  from  the  summit  of  a tree, 
begins  his  song  as  soon  as  he  gets  upon  the  wing,  and 
flutters  ■^tremulously  down  to  the  earth,  as  if  overcome 
with  ecstasy  at  his  own  music.  Sometimes  he  is  in  pur- 
suit of  his  mate ; always  in  full  song,  as  if  he  would  win 
her  by  his  '^'melody  ; and  always  with  the  same  appear- 
ance of  ■‘'intoxication  and  delight.  Of  all  the  birds  of 
our  groves  and  meadows,  the  boblink  was  the  envy  of  my 
boyhood.  He  crossed  my  path  in  the  sweetest  weather, 
and  the  sweetest  season  of  the  year,  when  all  nature 
called  to  the  fields,  and  the  rural  feeling  throbbed  in 
every  bosom  ; but  when  I,  luckless  urchin  ! was  doomed 
to  be  mewed  up,  during  the  livelong  day,  in  a school 
room. 


312 


NEW  FIFTH  READEK. 


5.  It  seemed  as  if  the  little  varlet  mocked  at  me,  as 
lie  flew  by  in  full  song,  and  sought  to  '^'taunt  me  with  his 
happier  lot.  O,  how  I envied  him  ! IST o lessons,  no  task, 
no  school ; nothing  but  holiday,  frolic,  green  fields,  and 
fine  weather.  Had  I been  then  more  versed  in  poetry  1 
might  have  addressed  him  in  the  words  of  Logan  to  the 
cuckoo : — 

“ Sweet  bird,  thy  bower  is  ever  green, 

Thy  sky  is  ever  clear ; 

Thou  hast  no  sorrow  in  thy  song, 

No  winter  in  thy  year. 

“ 0,  could  I fly,  Pd  fly  with  thee , 

We’d  make,  on  joyful  wing. 

Our  annual  visit  round  the  globe. 

Companions  of  the  spring.” 

6.  Further  observation  and  experience  have  given  me 
a different  idea  of  this  feathered  voluptuary,  which  I will 
venture  to  '^impart,  for  the  benefit  of  my  young  readers, 
who  may  regard  him  with  the  same  unqualified  envy 
and  admiration  which  I once  indulged.  I have  shoAvn 
him  only  as  I saw  him  at  first,  in  what  I may  call  the 
poetical  part  of  his  career,  when  he,  in  a manner,  devoted 
himself  to  elegant  pursuits  and  enjoyments,  and  was  a 
bird  of  music,  and  song,  and  taste,  and  sensibility,  and 
L’cfinement.  While  this  lasted  he  was  sacred  from  injury ; 
the  very^  schoolboy  would  not  fling  a stone  at  him,  and 
the  merest  "^rustic  would  pause  to  listen  to  his  strain. 

7.  But  mark  the  difference.  As  the  year  advances,  as 
the  clover  blossoms  disappear,  and  the  spring  fades  into 
summer,  he  gradually  gives  up  his  elegant  tastes  and 
habits,  doflfs  his  poetical  suit  of  black,  assumes  a ‘^russet, 
dusty  garb,  and  sinks  to  the  gross  enjoyment  of  common, 
vulgar  birds.  His  notes  no  longer  ^vibrate  on  the  ear  ; 
he  is  stufiiing  himself  with  the  seeds  of  the  tall  weeds  on 
which,  he  lately  swung  and  chanted  so  melodiously.  He 
has  become  a “ bon  vivant,”  a “gourmand:”  with  him 
now  there  is  nothing  like  the  “joys  of  the  table.”  Tn  a 
little  while,  he  grows  tired  of  plain,  homely  fare,  and  is 
off  on  a gastronomic  tour  in  quest  of  foreign  luxuries. 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


813 


8.  We  next  hear  of  him,  with  myriads  of  his  kind, 
■♦■banqueting  among  the  reeds  of  the  Delaware,  and  grown 
'♦'corpulent  with  good  feeding.  Ho  has  changed  his  name 
in  traveling.  Boblincon  no  more,  he  is  the  reed-bird 
now,  the  much-sought-for  '♦'titbit  of  Pennsylvania  '♦'epi- 
cures, the  rival  in  unlucky  fame  of  the  ortolan!  Wher- 
ever he  goes,  pop  I pop  I pop  1 every  rusty  firelock  in  the 
country  is  blazing  away.  He  sees  his  companions  falling 
by  thousands  around  him.  Does  he  take  ivarning  and 
reform  ? Alas  ! not  he.  Again  he  wings  his  flight.  The 
rice  swamps  of  the  south  invite  him.  He  gorges  him- 
self among  them  almost  to  bursting ; he  can  scarcely 
fly  for  '♦'corpulency.  He  has  once  more  changed  his 
name,  and  is  now  the  famous  rice-bird  of  the  Carolinas. 
Last  stage  of  his  career  : behold  him  spitted,  with  dozens 
of  his  corpulent  companions,  and  served  up,  a vaunted 

^dish,  on  some  southern  table. 

9.  Such  is  the  story  of  the  boblink;  once  spiritual, 
musical,  admired,  the  joy  of  the  meadows,  and  the  fa- 
vorite bird  of  spring ; finally,  a gross  little  '♦'sensualist, 
who  ■♦'expiates  his  sensuality  in  the  '♦'larder.  His  story 
contains  a moral,  worthy  the  attention  of  all  little  birds 
and  little  boys  ; warning  them  to  keep  to  those  refined 
and  intellectual  pursuits,  which  raised  him  to  so  high  a 
pitch  of  popularity  during  the  early  part  of  his  career, 
but  to  ■♦'eschew  all  tendency  to  that  gross  and  dissipated 
indulgence,  which  brought  this  mistaken  little  bird  to  an 
untimely  end. 

Questions. — When  does  the  boblink  come  ? How  does  he  appear  ? 
What  does  he  do  ? As  the  year  advances  what  change  occurs  in 
him  ? What  does  he  become  at  last? 


EXERCISE  XXXIX. 

Wmd,  minds,  mmdst;  ^md,  ^nds,  ^indst ; jiold,  ymlds,  ymldst ; 
XmgWn,  l^ngtli^ns,  l^ngth^nst,  length^ nd,  \Qx\gtli^ndst ; hri^t^n 
67'ighn^^ws,  hri^fnst,  hri^fnd,  hri^fnd’st. 

fe  — 27 


314 


NEW  FIFTH  READER 


LESSON  XCl.'if'' 


2.  Perch;  v.  to  light  or  settle  on 
any  thing. 

3 Pen^-ance;  n.  suffering  for  sin. 
4.  Lays  ; n.  songs,  [tion  of  singers, 
o.  Choir  (pro.  kwire);  n.  a collec- 


5.  Dome;  n.  a building.  Here  it 

means  the  heavens. 

6.  CoN^-sE-cRA-TED ; adj.  set  apart 

for  the  service  of  God. 

8.  Track  ^-LESs;  having  no  path. 


THE  WINGED  WORSHIPERS. 

[To  two  swallows,  that  flew  into  Church  during  Service.] 

Pronounce  correctly.  Do  not  guilt-liss  for  guilt-Zm;  mor^ 
tnls  for  moY-tals;  pen-unce  for  ^on-ance  ; up-wud  for  u^-ward. 

1.  Gay,  '^guiltless  pair^, 

What  seek  ye  from  the  fields  of  heaven? 

Ye  have  no  need  of  '^prayer^, 

Ye  have  no  sins'  to  be  forgiven. 

2.  Why  perch  ye  here^, 

Where  mortals'  to  their  Maker  bend  ? 

Can  your  pure  spirits  fear 
The  God  ye  never  could  offend? 

3.  Ye  never  knew 

The  crimes  for  which  we  come  to  weep  : 

Penance  is  not  for  you'^ 

Blessed  ■t^vand’rers  of  the  upper  deep. 

4.  To  you  ’t  is  . given 

To  wake  sweet  nature’s  untaught  lays ; 

Beneath  the  arch  of  heaven 
To  '**chirp  away  a life  of  praise. 

5.  Then  spread  each  wing, 

Far,  far  above,  o’er  lakes  and  lands. 

And  join  the  choirs  that  sing 
In  yon  blue  dome  not  ■**r eared  with  hands. 

6.  Or  if  ye  stay 

To  note  the  consecrated  hour, 

Teach  me  the  "^airy  way. 

And  let  me  try  your  '^envied  power. 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


ai5 

7.  Above  the  crowd, 

On  upward  wings  could  I but  fly, 

I ’d  bathe  in  yon  bright  cloud, 

And  seek  the  stars  that  gem  the  sky. 

8.  ’Twere  heaven  indeed. 

Through  fields  of  trackless  light  to  soar, 

On  nature’s  charms  to  feed, 

And  nature’s  own  great  God  +adore. 

Questions. — On  what  occasion  was  this  poem  written  ? We  ad- 
dress letters  to  our  friends ; was  this  addressed  to  the  birds  in  the 
same  sense  ? Do  you  discover  any  beautiful  expressions  in  this 
lesson  ? Point  them  out. 

Give  the  rule  for  the  rising  inflection  at  “pair.”  For  the  falling 
inflection  at  “heaven.”  For  the  rising  inflection  at  “prayer”  and 
‘<sins.” 


LESSON  XCII./ 


1.  Gul''-lies  ; n.  hollows  in  the 

earth  worn  by  water. 

2.  En-am^-eled  ; v.  {used  figura- 

tively) covered  with  a glossy 
surface  like  enamel. 

3.  Ru^-mi-na-ting  ; v.  chewing 

over  what  has  been  slightly 
chewed  before. 

3.  Herb^-age;  n.  pasture,  grass. 

3.  Lawns;  n,  open  spaces  between 

woods.  [movement. 

4.  Ma-neu^-ver;  n.  a dexterous 
4.  Prair^-ie;  ti.  an  extensive,  lev- 
el tract  without  trees,  but 
covered  with  tall  grass. 

4.  Wind''-ward;  n.  the  point  from 
which  the  wind  blows. 


5.  Lar^-i-at  ; n.  a long  cord  or 
thong  of  leather,  with  a noose, 
for  catching  wild  horses. 

8.  Flank^-ing  ; adj.  overlooking 
on  the  side. 

9.  Jack-o’lan^-tern  ; «(ij.alight, 

seen  in  low,  moist  grounds, 
which  disappears  when  ap- 
proached. [a  shelter. 

9.  Cov^-ert;  71.  a covering  place, 

10.  Pan^-ic  ; n.  sudden  fright. 

11.  ScouR^-iNG  ; V.  passing  swiftly. 

12.  Brake  ; n.  a thicket  of  shrubs 
or  canes. 

15.  Mar^red;  V,  interrupted, 
spoiled.  [full  of  fire. 

15.  Mer-cu^-ri-al;  sprightly 


CAPTURING  THE  WILD  HORSE. 

1.  We  left  the  '‘'buffalo  camp  about  eight  o’clock,  and 
had  a toilsome  and  '‘'harassing  march  of  two  hours,  over 
ridges  of  hills,  covered  with  a ragged  forest  of  scrub 
oaks,  and  broken  by  deep  gullies. 


310 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


2.  About  ten  o’clock  in  the  morning,  we  came  to  where 
this  line  of  rugged  hills  swept  down  into  a valley, 
through  which  flowed  the  north  fork  of  Eed  river.  A 
beautiful  meadow,  about  half  a mile  wide,  enameled  with 
yellow  ■^autumnal  flowers,  stretched  for  two  or  three 
miles  along  the  foot  of  the  hills,  bordered  on  the  opjoosite 
side  by  the  river,  whose  banks  were  fringed  with  cotton- 
wood trees,  the  bright  foliage  of  which  refreshed  and 
delighted  the  eye,  after  being  wearied  b}^  the  contempla- 
tion of  '^'monotonous  wastes  of  brown  forest. 

3.  The  meadow  was  finely  '^diversifled  by  groves  and 
clumps  of  trees,  so  happily  disposed,  that  they  seemed 
as  if  set  out  by  the  hand  of  art.  As  we  cast  our  eyes 
over  this  fresh  and  delightful  valley,  we  beheld  a troop 
of  wild  horses,  quietly  grazing  on  a green  lawn,  about  a 
mile  distant,  to  our  right,  while  to  our  left,  at  nearly  the 
same  distance,  were  several  buffaloes ; some  feeding, 
others  reposing,  and  ruminating  among  the  high,  rich 
h erbage,  under  the  shade  of  a clump  of  cotton -wood 
trees.  The  whole  had  the  appearance  of  a broad,  beauti- 
ful tract  of  pasture  land,  on  the  highly-ornamented  es- 
tate of  some  gentleman  farmer,  with  his  cattle  grazing 
about  the  lawns  and  meadows. 

4.  A '^council  of  war  was  now  held,  and  it  was  deter- 
mined to  profit  by  the  present  favorable  opportunity, 
and  try  our  hand  at  the  grand  hunting  maneuver,  which 
is  called  “ringing  the  wild  horse.”  This  requires  a large 
party  of  horsemen,  well  mounted.  They  extend  them- 
selves in  each  direction,  at  a certain  distance  apart,  and 
gradually  form  a ring  of  two  or  three  miles  in  '^'circum- 
ference,  so  as  to  surround  the  game.  This  must  be  done 
with  extreme  care,  for  the  wild  horse  is  the  most  readily 
alarmed  inhabitant  of  the  prairie,  and  can  scent  a hun- 
ter a great  distance,  if  to  windward. 

5.  The  ring  being  formed,  two  or  three  ride  toward 
the  horses,  which  start  off  in  an  opposite  direction. 
Whenever  they  approach  the  bounds  of  the  ring,  how- 
ever, a huntsman  presents  himself,  and  turns  them  from 
their  course.  In  this  way.  they  are  checked,  and  driven 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


317 


back  at  every  point,  and  kej)t  galloping  round  and 
round  this  '‘'magic  circle,  until,  being  '‘'completely  tired 
down,  it  is  easy  for  hunters  to  ride  up  beside  them,  and 
throw  the  lariat  over  their  heads.  The  prime  horses  of 
the  most  speed,  courage,  and  bottom  however,  are  apt  to 
break  through  and  escape,  so  that,  in  general,  it  is  the 
second-rate  horses  that  are  taken. 

6.  '‘'Preparations  were  now  made  for  a hunt  of  this 
kind.  The  j)ack  horses  were  now  taken  into  the  woods, 
and  firmly  tied  to  trees,  lest  in  a rush  of  wild  horses, 
they  should  break  away.  Tiventy-five'  men  were  then 
sent  under  the  command  of  a lieutenant,  to  steal  along 
the  edge  of  the  valley,  within  the  strip  of  wood  that 
'‘‘skirted  the  hills.  They  were  to  station  themselves 
about  fifty  yards  apart,  within  the  edge  of  the  woods, 
and  not  advance  or  show  themselves  until  the  horses 
dashed  in  that  direction.  Twenty-five  men  were  sent 
across  the  valley,  to  steal  in  like  manner  along  the  river 
bank  that  bordered  the  opposite  side,  and  to  station 
themselves  among  the  trees. 

7.  A third  party  of  about  the  same  number  was  to 
form  a line,  stretching  across  the  lower  part  of  the  val- 
ley, so  as  to  connect  the  two  wings.  Bcatte  and  our 
other  half  breed,  Antoine,  together  with  the  ever  officious 
Tonish,  were  to  make  a '‘  circuit  through  the  woods,  so  as 
to  get  to  the  upper  part  of  the  valley,  in  the  rear  of  the 
horses,  and  drive  them  forward,  into  the  kind  of  sack 
that  we  had  formed,  while  the  two  wings  should  join 
behind  them,  and  make  a complete  circle. 

8.  The  flanking  parties  were  quietly  extending  them- 
selves out  of  sight,  on  each  side  of  the  valley,  and  the 
residue  were  stretching  themselves  like  the  links  of  a 
chain  across  it,  when  the  wild  horses  gave  signs  that 
they  scented  an  enemy ; snuffing  the  air,  snorting,  and 
looking  about.  At  length,  they  '‘'pranced  off  slowly 
tov'ard  the  river,  and  disappeared  behind  a green  bank. 

9.  Here,  had  the  regulations  of  the  chase  been 
observed,  they  would  have  been  quietly  checked  and 
turned  back  by  the  advance  of  a hunter  from  the  trees 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


318 


^'Unluckily,  however,  we  had  our  '•'wild-fire,  Jack-o’lan- 
tern,  little  Frenchman  to  deal  with.  Instead  of  keeping 
quietly  up  the  right  side  of  the  valley,  ^o  get  above  the 
horses,  the  moment  he  saw  them  move  toward  the  river, 
he  broke  out  of  the  covert  of  woods,  and  dashed  furious- 
ly across  the  plain  in  pursuit  of  them.  This  put  an  end 
to  all  s^^stem.  The  half  breeds,  and  half  a score  of  '•'ran- 
gers, joined  in  the  chase. 

10.  Away  they  all  went  over  the  green  bank.  In  a 
moment  or  two,  the  wild  horses  re-appeared,  and  came 
tnundering  down  the  valley,  with  Frenchman,  half 
breeds,  and  rangers,  galloping  and  bellowing  behind 
them.  It  was  in  vain  that  the  line  drawn  across  the 
valley,  attempted  to  check,  and  turn  back  the  fugitives ; 
they  were  too  hotly  pressed  by  their  pursuers : in  their 
panic  they  dashed  through  the  line,  and  '•'clattered  down 
the  plain. 

11.  The  whole  troop  joined  in  the  headlong  chase, 
some  of  the  rangers  without  hats  or  caps,  their  hair 
flying  about  their  ears,  and  others  with  handkerchiefs 
tied  round  their  heads.  The  buffaloes,  which  had  been 
calmly  ruminating  among  the  herbage,  heaved  up  their 
huge  forms,  gazed  for  a moment  at  the  tempest  that  came 
scouring  down  the  meadow,  then  turned  and  took  to 
heavy  rolling  flight.  They  were  soon  overtaken ; the 
'•'promiscuous  throng  were  pressed  together,  by  the  con- 
tracting sides  of  the  valley,  and  away  they  went',  pell 
meir,  '•'hurry  skurry',  wild  buffalo,  wild  horse',  wild 
huntsman',  with  clang  and  clatter',  and  whoop  and  hallo^, 
that  made  the  forests  ring'. 

12.  At  length,  the  buffaloes  turned  into  a green  brake, 
on  the  river  bank,  while  the  horses  dashed  up  a narrow 
’•'defile  of  the  hills,  with  their  pursuers  close  to  their 
heels.  Beatte  passed  several  of  them,  having  fixed  his 
eye  upon  a fine  Pawnee  horse  that  had  his  ears  slit,  and 
saddle  marks  upon  his  back.  He  pressed  him  gallantly, 
but  lost  him  in  the  woods. 

13.  Among  the  wild  horses,  was  a fine  black  mare, 
which  in  '•'scrambling  up  the  defile,  tripped  and  fell.  A 


ECLECTIC  SEKIES. 


319 


young  ranger  sprang  from  his  horse,  and  seized  her  by 
the  mane  and  ‘’Tnuzzle.  Another  ranger  dismounted,  and 
came  to  his  assistance.  The  mare  struggled  fiercely, 
kicking  and  biting,  and  striking  with  her  fore  feet,  but 
a noose  was  slipped  over  her  head,  and  her  struggles 
were  in  vain. 

14.  It  was  some  time,  however,  before  she  gave  over 
rearing  and  plunging,  and  lashing  out  with  her  feet  on 
every  side.  The  two  rangers  then  led  her  along  the 
valley,  by  two  strong  lariats,  which  enabled  them  to 
keep  at  a sufficient  distance  on  each  side,  to  be  out  of  the 
reach  of  her  hoofs,  and  whenever  she  struck  out  in  one 
direction,  she  was  jerked  in  the  other.  In  this  way  her 
spirit  was  gradually  '^subdued. 

15.  As  to  Tonish,  who  had  marred  the  whole  scheme 
by  his  tprecij)itancy,  he  had  been  more  successful  than 
he  deserved,  having  managed  to  catch  a beautiful  cream 
colored  colt  about  seven  months  old,  that  had  not 
strength  to  keep  up  with  its  companions.  The  mercurial 
little  Frenchman  was  beside  himself  with  ^exultation. 
It  was  amusing  to  see  him  with  his  prize.  The  colt  would 
rear  and  kick,  and  struggle  to  get  free,  when  Tonish 
would  take  him  about  the  neck,  wrestle  with  him,  jump 
on  his  back,  and  cut  as  many  antics  as  a monkey  with  a 
kitten. 

16.  Nothing  surprised  me  more,  however,  than  to  wit> 
ness  how  soon  these  poor  animals,  thus  taken  from  the 
unbounded  freedom  of  the  prairie,  yielded  to  the  domin- 
ion of  man.  In  the  course  of  two  or  three  days,  the 
mare  and  colt  went  with  the  lead  horses,  and  became 
quite  ■tdocile. 

Questions. — Near  what  river  did  this  expedition  commence?  Where 
is  that  river?  Describe  the  country,  scenery,  etc.  What  animated 
objects  presented  themselves  to  view  upon  the  right  and  the  left?  To 
what  is  the  whole  scene  compared?  What  hunting  maneuver  was 
commenced?  Describe  it.  What  is  the  lariat?  Describe  the  pro- 
ceedings of  the  party  in  this  maneuver.  What  interrupted  its  suc- 
cessful completion  ? Give  the  striking  contrast  between  the  flight  of 
the  wild  horses  and  that  of  the  buffaloes.  Describi  the  capture  of 
the  black  mare.  What  was  the  conduct  of  the  captured  animals  in 
respect  to  being  tamed? 


32U 


NEW  FIFTH  KEADEll. 


LESSON  XCI1I.?;5 


5.  Co^-QUET-RY  ; n.  trifling  in  love. 

6.  Cho^rus  ; n.  music  in  which 

all  join. 

6.  Yore;  adv.  old  times. 


1.  Le^-gion  ; n,  division  of  an 

army. 

2.  Corse  ; n.  a dead  body. 

3 Hoard  n.  what  is  laid  up. 


THE  SOLDIER  ON  THE  RHINE. 

1.  A Soldier  of  the  Legion  lay  dying  at  Algiers, 

There  was  lack  of  woman's  nursing,  there  was  '’'dearth  ot 
woman's  tears, 

But  a comrade  stood  beside  him,  while  the  life-blood  ebbed 
away. 

And  bent  with  pitying  glance  to  hear  each  word  he  had  to  say. 
The  dying  soldier  faltered,  as  he  took  that  comrade's  hand. 

And  he  said : I never  more  shall  see  my  own,  my  native 
land  I 

Take  a message  and  a token  to  the  distant  friends  of  mine. 

For  I was  born  at  Bingen,  at  Bingen  on  the  Rhine! 

2,  “ Tell  my  brothers  and  companions,  when  they  meet  and  crowd 

around. 

To  hear  my  mournful  story,  in  the  pleasant  +vineyard  ground. 
That  we  fought  the  battle  bravely,  and  when  the  day  was  done, 
Full  many  a corse  lay  ghastly  pale,  beneath  the  setting  sun  ; 
And  mid  the  dead  and  dying  were  some  grown  old  in  wars, 

The  death-wound  on  their  gallant  breasts,  the  last  of  many 
scars ! 

But  some  were  young,  and  suddenly  beheld  Life's  morn  decline, 
And  one  had  come  from  Bingen,  fair  Bingen  on  the  Rhine ! 

3 “ Tell  my  mother  that  her  other  sons  shall  comfort  her  old  age, 
For  I was  still  a truant  bird,  that  thought  his  home  a cage  ; 

For  mj  father  was  a soldier,  and,  even  when  a child. 

My  heart  leaped  forth  to  hear  him  tell  of  struggles  fierce  and 
wild ; 

And  when  he  died,  and  left  us  to  divide  his  '’‘scanty  hoard, 

I let  them  take  whate'er  they  would,  but  kept  my  father's  sword ! 
And  with  boyish  love  I hung  it  where  the  bright  light  used  to 
shine, 

On  the  cottage  wall  at  Bingen,  calm  Bingen  on  the  Rhine ! 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


321 


4 “ Tell  mj  sister  not  to  weep  for  mo  and  sob  with  drooping  head, 
When  the  troops  come  marching  home  again,  with  glad  and 
tgallant  tread ; 

But  to  look  upon  them  proudly,  with  a calm  and  steadfast  eye. 
For  her  brother  was  a soldier,  too,  and  not  afraid  to  die  I 
And  if  a comrade  seek  her  love,  I ask  her  in  my  name 
To  listen  to  him  kindly,  without  '♦‘regret  and  shame ; 

And  to  hang  the  old  sword  in  its  place,  (my  father^s  sword  and 
mine). 

For  the  honor  of  old  Bingen,  dear  Bingen  on  the  Rhine  I 

5.  ‘‘  There^s  another,  not  a sister,  in  happy  days  gone  by. 

You’d  have  known  her  by  the  -J-merriment  that  sparkled  in  her 
eye; 

Too  innocent  for  coquetry,  too  fond  for  idle  ‘♦‘scorning, 

0 ! friend,  I fear  the  lightest  heart  makes  sometimes  heaviest 
mourning ! 

Tell  her  the  last  night  of  my  life — (for,  ere  the  moon  be  risen. 
My  body  will  be  out  of  pain,  my  soul  be  out  of  prison), 

I dreamed  I stood  with  her,  and  saAV  the  yellow  sunlight  shine 
On  the  vineclad  hills  of  Bingen,  fair  Bingen  on  the  Rhine ! 

G “I  saw  the  blue  Rhine  sweep  along.  I heard,  or  seemed  to  hear 
The  German  songs  we  used  to  sing  in  chorus  sweet  and  clear  ; 
And  dovrn  the  pleasant  river,  and  up  the  slanting  hill. 

The  ^echoing  chorus  sounded,  through  the  evening  calm  and 
still ; 

x4nd  her  glad  blue  eyes  were  on  me,  as  we  passed  with  friendly 
talk, 

Down  many  a path  beloved  of  yore,  and  well  remembered  walk; 
x4.nd  her  little  hand  lay  lightly,  '♦'confidingly,  in  mine; 

But  weTl  meet  no  more  at  Bingen,  loved  Bingen  on  the  Rhine  I” 

7 His  trembling  voice  grew  faint  and  hoarse,  his  gasp  was  child- 
ish weak. 

His  eyes  put  on  a dying  look,  he  sighed  and  ceased  to  speak ; 

His  comrade  bent  to  lift  him,  but  the  spark  of  life  had  fled, 

The  soldier  of  the  Legion  in  a foreign  land  was  dead ! 

And  the  soft  moop  rose  up  slowly,  and  calmly  she  looked  down 
On  the  red  sand  of  the  battle-field,  with  .bloody  corses  strewn  I 
Yes,  calmly  on  that  dreadful  scene,  her  pale  light  seemed  to 
shine, 

As  it  shone  on  distant  Bingen,  fair  Bingen  on  the  Rhine 


322 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


LESSON  XCIV. 


1.  Ro-mano'-ing;  adj.  telling  fa- 
bles. 

3.  Fe-lic^-i-ty;  n.  happiness. 


5.  Sus-PEND^-Ei) ; V.  put  off. 

5.  PpcE^'-ma-ture;  adj.  too  scon, 
too  early. 


MATILDA. 

Pronounce  correctly.  Do  not  say  tliousun  for  thou-sancZ;  r<y- 
mancing  iov  ro-manc-inp' ; moment  for  mo-ment;  utmost  for  ut- 
most ; felic’ty  for  fe-lic-?‘-ty ; various  for  va-ri-ous ; 'particularly 
for  par-tic-w-laiTy ; unfortunHe  for  un-fort-w-nate ; spectatur  for 
spec-ta-tor. 

1.  Our  happiness  is  in  the  power  of  One,  who  can 
bring  it  about  in  a thousand  unforeseen  ways,  that  mock 
our  foresight.  If  example  be  necessary  to  prove  this,  I 
will  give  you  a story,  told  us  by  a grave,  though  some- 
times romancing,  ^historian. 

2.  ^‘Matilda  was  married,  very  young,  to  a Neapolitan 
nobleman  of  the  first  ’^quality,  and  found  herself  a widow 
and  a mother,  at  the  age  of  fifteen.  As  she  stood,  one 
day,  '^'caressing  her  infant  son,  in  the  open  window  of  an 
apartment  which  hung  over  the  river  Yolturnus,  the 
child,  with  a sudden  spring,  leaped  from  her  arms  into 
the  fiood  below,  and  disappeared  in  a moment.  The 
mother,  struck  with  instant  surprise,  and  making  an 
effort  to  save  him,  plunged  in  after  ; but,  far  from  being 
able  to  assist  the  infant,  she  herself,  with  great  difficulty, 
escaped  to  the  opposite  shore,  just  when  some  French 
soldiers  were  plundering  the  country  on  that  side,  who 
immediately  made  her  their  j^risoner. 

3.  “As  the  war  was  then  carried  on  between  the 
French  and  Italians,  with  the  utmost  inhumanity,  they 
were  going,  at  once,  to  take  her  life.  This  base  +resolu- 
tion,  however,  was  opposed  by  a young  officer,  who, 
though  their  retreat  required  the  utmost  expedition, 
placed  her  behind  him,  and  carried  her  in  safety  to  her 
native  city.  Her  beauty,  at  first,  caught  his  eye,  her 
merit,  soon  after,  his  heart.  They  were  married:  he 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


323 


rose  to  the  highest  posts : they  lived  long  together,  and 
were  happy.  But  the  felicity  of  a soldier  can  never  be 
called  permanent.  After  an  "^inteival  of  several  years, 
the  troops  which  he  commanded  having  met  with  a 
repulse,  he  w^as  obliged  to  take  shelter  in  the  city  where 
he  had  lived  with  his  wife.  Here  they  suffered  a seige, 
and  the  city,  at  length,  was  taken. 

4.  “Few  histories  can  produce  more  various  instances 
of  cruelty,  than  those  which  the  French  and  Italians,  at 
that  time,  exercised  upon  each  other.  It  was  resolved  by 
the  victors,  upon  this  occasion,  to  'put  all  the  French 
prisoners  to  death ; but  particularly  the  husband  of 
the  unfortunate  Matilda,  as  he  was  principally  tinstru- 
mental  in  fprotracting  the  siege.  Their  determinations 
were,  in  general,  executed  almost  as  soon  as  resolved 
upon. 

5.  “ The  captive  soldier  was  led  forth,  and  the  execu- 
tioner, with  his  sword,  stood  ready,  while  the  spectators, 
in  gloomy  silence,  awaited  the  fatal  blow,  which  was  only 
suspended  till  the  general,  who  presided  as  judge,  should 
give  the  signal.  It  was  in  this  interval  of  anguish  and 
expectation,  that  Matilda  came  to  take  her  last  farewell 
of  her  husband  and  deliverer,  deploring  her  wretched 
situation,  and  the  tcruelty  of  fate,  that  had  saved  her 
from  perishing,  by  a premature  death,  in  tlie  river  Vol- 
turnus  to  be  the  spectator  of  still  greater  ^calamities. 

6.  “ The  general,  who  was  a young  man,  was  struck 
with  surprise  at  her  beauty,  and  pity  at  her  distress ; 
but  with  still  stronger  emotions,  when  he  heard  her 
mention  her  former  dangers.  He  was  her  son ; the  in- 
fant, for  whom  she  had  '^encountered  so  much  danger, 
lie  acknowledged  her,  at  once,  as  his  mother,  and  fell  at 
her  feet.  The  rest  may  be  easily  supposed.  The  captive 
was  set  free,  and  all  the  happiness  that  love,  friendship, 
and  duty  could  confer  on  each,  was  enjoyed.” 


324 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


LESSON  XGY.fJ 


2.  Ad-vent^-ur-ers;  those  who 
attempt  difficult  enterprises. 
2.  SuM^-MA-RY ; adj.  short,  brief. 
2.  Out^-rage;  n.  violence. 


3.  SiG^'-NAL-iZED ; V.  made  re- 
markable. 

3.  De-tach^-ment  ; n.  a party  sent 
off  from  the  main  body. 


SPEECH  OF  LOGAN,  CHIEF  OF  THE  MINGOES. 

Remark. — Let  every  pupil  notice,  as  each  one  reads,  when  the  final 
consonant  of  any  word  is  joined  to  the  vowel  of  the  next  word.  ^ 

Articulate  distinctly.  Do  not  say  who  lof,  for  whole  of;  an 
dindeedf  for  and  indeed;  eminen  torators,  for  eminent  orators; 
talen  isiHy  for  talents  in;  cdebraty  din  pea  san  dwar,  iov  cele- 
brated in  peace  and  war. 

1.  I MAY  '^challenge  the  whole  of  the  orations  of  De 
mosthenes  and  Cicero,  and  indeed,  of  any  more  eminent 
orators,  if  Europe  or  the  world,  has  furnished  more 
eminent,  to  produce  a single  passage  superior  to  the 
speech  of  Logan,  a Mingo  chief,  delivered  to  Lord  Dun- 
more,  when  governor  of  Virginia.  As  a testimony 
of  Indian  talents  in  this  line,  I beg  leave  to  introduce 
it,  by  first  stating  the  tincidents  necessary  for  under- 
standing it. 

2.  In  the  spring  of  the  year  1774,  a robbery  was  com- 
mitted by  some  Indians,  upon  certain  land  adventurers 
on  the  Ohio  river.  The  whites  in  that  quarter,  according 
to  their  custom,  undertook  to  punish  this  outrage  in  a 
summary  way.  Captain  Michael  Cresap  and  one 
Daniel  Greathouse,  leading  on  these  parties,  surprised, 
at  different  times,  traveling  and  hunting  parties  of  the 
Indians,  who  had  their  women  and  children  v/ith  them, 
and  murdered  many.  Among  these,  were  "^unfortunately 
the  family  of  Logan,  a chief  celebrated  in  peace  and  war, 
and  long  "tdistinguished  as  the  friend  of  the  whites. 

3.  This  unworthy  return  provoked  his  '^'vengeance. 
He  accordingly  signalized  himself  in  the  war  which 
ensued.  In  the  autumn  of  the  same  year,  a Mecisivo 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


8 


battle  was  fought  at  the  mouth  of  the  Great  Kanawha, 
betAveen  the  collected  forces  of  the  Shawnees,  the  Min- 
goes,  and  the  Delawares,  and  a detachment  of  the  Yir- 
ginia  militia.  The  Indians  were  defeated,  and  sued  for 
peace.  Logan,  hoAvever,  Misdained  to  be  seen  among 
the  -^suppliants  : but,  lest  the  -^sincerity  of  a treaty,  from 
sv^hich  so  distinguished  a chief  absented  himself,  should 
be  distrusted,  he  sent,  by  a messenger,  the  following 
speech  to  be  delivered  to  Lord  Dunmore. 

4.  “I  appeal  to  any  white  man  to  say,  if  ever  he  en- 
tered Logan’s  cabin  hungry,  and  he  gave  him  not  meat; 
if  ever  he  came  cold  and  naked,  and  he  clothed  him  not. 
During  the  course  of  the  last  long  and  bloody  Avar,  Logan 
remained  idle  in  his  cabin,  an  Advocate  for  peace.  Such 
was  my  love  for  the  whites,  that  my  countrymen  pointed 
as  they  passed,  and  said  ‘Logan  is  the  friend  of  the 
white  men.  ’ I had  e\"en  thought  to  live  Avith  you,  but 
for  the  injuries  of  one  man.  Colonel  Cresap,  last  spring, 
in  cold  blood,  and  -^unprovoked,  murdered  all  the  -^rela- 
tives of  Logan,  not  sparing  even  my  Avomen  and  children. 
There  runs  not  a drop  of  my  blood  in  the  ve.^ns  of  any 
living  creature.  This  called  on  me  for  revenge.  I haA^^ 
sought  it.  I have  killed  many.  I have  fully  '^glutted 
my  ■^vengeance.  For  my  country,  I rejoice  at  the  beams 
of  peace:  but  do  not  -^harbor  a thought  that  mine  is  the 
joy  of  fear.  Logan  never  felt  fear.  He  will  not  turn 
on  his  heel  to  save  his  life.  Who  is  there  to  mourn  for 
Logan  ? Hot  one.” 


Questions.  — Who  was  Demosthenes?  Cicero?  Who  undertook  to 
punish  the  Indians  ? Whose  family  were  killed?  Where  was  a de- 
cisive battle  fought?  Where  does  the  Kanawha  rise?  Why  did  net 
Logan  appear  among  the  suppliants? 

In  the  sentence,  ‘ Logan  never  felt  fear,^  which  , is  the  subject? 
Which  the  attribute?  See  Pinneo’s  Analytical  Grammar. 


26 


NEW  EIETU  READER. 


LESSON  XCVI.f<^ 


1 Fes^'-ter-ing  ; v.  causing  cor- 
ruption, rankling. 

3 Rapt;  adj.  transported  in  ec- 
stasy. 

2.  Air^-i-ly;  adv.  gayly,  merrily. 

8 A-gape^;  adv,  (pro.  a-gahp)  gap- 
ing. 

4.  Sti^-fles  , V.  suppresses,  steps. 

6.  Smoth^'-er-ing;  adj.  suffocating 
by  covering  up  closely.  | 


7.  In-sa^-ti-ate  ; adj.  not  to  be 
satisfied. 

7.  Yearn^-ing;  n.  strong  emo- 
tion of  tenderness  or  pity. 

7.  Taunt  ; v.  to  upbraid,  to  revile. 

9.  E-clipse^;  v.  to  obscure,  to 
darken.  Here  it  means  to  sur- 
pass, to  go  beyond,  [thinking. 

9.  Con-cep^-tion;  n.  the  power  of 
11.  Pomp;  n.  splendor,  parade. 


PARRHASIUS. 

Remark. — The  tones  of  the  voice  and  the  manner  of  reading  should 
correspond  with  the  nature  of  the  subject. 

[The  following  is  a very  difficult  sketch  to  read  expressively.  The 
old  man  dying  under  torture,  and  the  painter  striving  to  catch  the 
expression  of  his  countenance,  and  to  transfer  it  to  the  canvas,  are 
the  two  objects  before  the  mind.  The  painter  is  sometimes  talking  to 
himself,  sometimes  directing  his  servant,  and  sometimes  replying  to 
the  groans  and  entreaties  of  the  dying  man,  and,  in  each  of  these 
characters,  his  supposed  manner  of  expression  is  to  be  imitated.]* 
Parrhasius,  a painter  of  Athens,  bought  one  of  those  Olynthian 
captives  which  Philip  of  Macedon  brought  home  to  sell;  and,  when  he 
had  him  at  his  house,  put  him  to  death  with  extreme  torture  and  tor- 
ment, the  better  by  his  example,  to  express  the  pains  and  passions  of 
his  Prometheus,  which  he  was  then  about  to  paint.’’ 

In  the  fables  of  the  ancients,  Prometheus  is  represented  as  being, 
by  the  command  of  the  gods,  chained  to  the  rocks  of  Mount  Caucasus, 
and  surrounded  by  vultures,  which  are  constantly  devouring  his  liver. 
This,  however,  grows  again  as  fast  as  it  is  eaten,  so  that  he  is  thus 
continually  enduring  the  agonies  of  death,  but  never  dies.  It  was 
this  Prometheus,  thus  chained  and  tortured,  that  Parrhasius  was 
attempting  to  paint,  and  the  old  man,  his  captive,  was  tortured  to 
death,  that  the  painter  might  copy  the  expression  given  by  extreme 
pain  to  the  countenance. 

1.  Parrhasius  stood,  gazing  forgetfully 

Upon  his  ***canvas.  There  Prometheus  lay, 
Chained  to  the  cold  rocks  of  Mount  Caucasus, 

The  vultures  at  his  vitals,  and  the  links 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


327 


Of  the  lame  Lemiiian*  festering  in  his  flesh  ; / 

And  as  the  painter’s  mind  felt  through  the  dim, 

Eapt  ■^'mystery,  and  plucked  the  shadows  wild 
Forth  with  his  reaching  fancy,  and  with  form 
And  color  clad  them,  his  fine,  earnest  eye 
Flashed  with  a j^assionate  fire,  and  the  quick  curl 
Of  his  thin  nostril,  and  his  quivering  lip, 

Were  like  the  winged  god’sf  breathing  from  his  flight 

2 “ Bring  me  the  captive  now  : 

My  hand  feels  skillful,  and  the  shadows  lift 
From  my  waked  spirit  airily  and  swift ; 

And  I could  paint  the  bow 
Upon  the  bended  heavens;  around  me  play 
Colors  of  such  divinity  to-day. 

B.  ‘^Ha!  bind  him  on  his  back^! 

Look^!  as  Prometheus  in  my  picture  here^! 

Quick^l  or  he  faints^!  stand  with  the  cordial  near^I 
Now^!  bend  him  to  the  raclc! 

Press  down  the  poisoned  links  into  his  fiesh^! 

And  tear  agape  that  healing  wound  afresh^! 

4.  ^'■So^!  let  him  writhe^!  How  long 

Will  he  live  thus^?  Quick^,  my  good  penciP,  now  I 
What  a fine  +agony  works  upon  his  brow^! 

Ha  ! gray-haired  and  so  strong^! 

How  fearfully  he  stifles  that  short  moan'"! 

Gods^l  if  I could  paint  a dying  groan^l 

5.  ‘^Pity  thee^?  So  1 do^; 

1 pity  the  dumb  victim  at  the  altar  ; 

But  does  the  robed  priest  for  his  pity  Halter"'? 

I’d  rack  thee^,  though  I knew^ 

A thousand  lives  were  perishing  in  thine^; 

What  were  ten  thousand  to  a fame  like  mine? 

().  “Ah  I there’s  a deathless  name  1 

A spirit  that  the  smothering  vault  shall  spurn, 


* Vulcan,  the  fabled  blacksmith  of  the  gods,  and  lame, 
t Mercury. 


328 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


And,  like  a '^'steadfast  planet,  mount  and  burn : 

And  though  its  crown  of  flame 
Consumed  my  brain  to  ashes  as  it  won  me ; 

By  all  the  fiery  stars^!  I’d  pluck  it  on  me  ! 

7.  “ Ay^,  though  it  bid  me  +rifle 

My  heart’s  last  fount  for  its  insatiate  thirst^ ; 
Though  every  life-strung  nerve  be  maddened  first; 

Though  it  should  bid  me  stifle 
The  yearning  in  my  throat  for  my  sweet  child^ 

And  taunt  its  mother  till  my  brain  went  wild ; 

8.  All'll  I would  do  it  all^^ 

Sooner  than  die,  like  a dull  worm ^ to  rot; 

Thrust  foully  in  the  earth  to  be  forgot. 

Oh  heavens^  ! but  I appall 
Your  heart^,  old  man^!  forgive^ha!  on  your  lives 
Let  him  not  faint!  raeJc^  him  till  he  ‘^revives! 

9.  “Yain^ — vain^ — give  o’er.  His  eye 
Glazes  apace.  He  does  not  feel  you  now. 

Stand  back!  I’ll  paint  the  death  dew  on  his  brow! 

Gods ! if  he  do  not  die 
'But  for  one  moment — one — till  I eclipse 
Conception  with  the  scorn  of  those  calm  lips ! 

10.  ‘^Shivering!  Hark!  he  mutters 

Brokenly  now ; that  was  a difficult  breath ; 
Another^?  Wilt  thou  never  come,  oh,  Death^! 

Look^  ! how  his  temple  '^fiutters^  ! 

Is  his  heart  still?  Aha!  lift  up  his  head^ ! 

He  shudders^— gasps^ — Jove  help^  him — so^,  he’s 
dead!” 

11  How  like  a mountain  devil  in  the  heart 
Eules  this  unreined  ambition ! Let  it  once 
But  play  the  '^monarch,  and  its  haughty  brow 
Glows  with  a beauty  that  ^bewilders  thought 
And  '•’unthrones  peace  forever.  Putting  on 
The  very  pomp  of  Lucifer,  it  turns 
The  heart  to  ashes,  and  with  not  a spring 
Left  in  the  desert  for  the  spirit’s  lip, 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


329 


Wo  look  upon  our  splendor,  and  forget 
The  thirst  of  which  we  perish ! 

Questions. — Who  was  Parrhasius?  Where  is  Athens?  What  was 
Parrhasius  painting?  Relate  the  fable  of  Prometheus.  Why  did  the 
painter  torture  the  old  man? 

Explain  the  inflections. 

Parse  the  first  “aZZ”  in  the  8th  paragraph.  Parse  “vain”  in  the 
9lh.  The  second  “one”  in  the  same. 


EXERCISE  XL. 

It  exists  everywhere.  Thou  synooili’st  his  rugged  paZA.  Thou 
safst  upon  thy  throne.  Do  you  see  the  hirds^  nests?  Thou  calVsi 
in  vain.  Alkaline  earths. 


LESSON  xcvii.// 


3.  Prank^-ish;  adj.  frolicsome. 

4.  Pre-dom^-in-ate;  v.  to  have 

the  most  influence,  to  pre- 
vail. 

4.  Baf^-fled;  v.  defeated. 

An-ni-vers^-a-ry;  w.  stated  day, 


returning  with  the  revolution 
of  the  year. 

7.  Com-pla'-cen-cy;  n.  pleasure, 

satisfaction. 

8.  Men^-ace;  n.  the  threatening 

of  evil  to  come. 


MARTYN  AND  BYRON. 

1.  Both  Henry  Martyn  and  Lord  Byron  sliared 
the  sorrows  of  life,  and  their  records  teach  the  differ- 
ent workings  of  the  Christian  and  the  worldly  mind. 
Byron  lost  his  mother,  and  when  urged  not  to  give  way 
to  sorrow,  he  hurst  into  an  agony  of  grief,  saying,  “1 
had  hut  one  friend  in  the  world,  and  now  she  is  gone!” 
On  the  death  of  some  of  his  early  friends,  he  thus  writes : 
“My  friends  fall  around  me,  and  I shall  he  left  a lonely 
tree  before  I am  withered.  I have  no  "^'resource  hut  my 
oxen  reflections^  and  they  present  no  prospect  here  or 
liereafter,  except  the  selfish  satisfaction  of  surviving  my 
betters.  I am  indeed  most  wretched.” 

2.  And  thus  Henry  Martyn  mourns  the  loss  of  one 
most  dear:  “Can  it  he  that  she  has  heen  lying  so  many 

5th  n.— 28 


330 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


months  in  the  cold  grave?  Would  that  I could  always 
remember  it,  or  always  forget  it;  but  to  think  a moment 
on  other  things,  and  then  feel  the  remembrance  of  it 
come,  as  if  for  the  first  time,  rends  my  heart  ‘’’asunder. 
Oh  my  gracious  God,  what  should  I do  without  Thee ! 
But  now  thou  art  manifesting  thyself  as  Hhe  God  of 
all  consolation.’  Never  was  I so  near  thee.  There  is 
nothing  in  the  world  for  which  I could  wish  to  live, 
except  because  it  may  please  God  to  appoint  me  some 
work  to  do.  Oh  thou  incomprehensibly  glorious  Savior, 
what  hast  thou  done  to  alleviate  the  sorrows  of  life! ” 

3.  It  is  recorded  of  Byron,  that,  in  society,  he  gen- 
erally appeared  humorous  and  prankish;  yet,  when 
■’‘rallied  on  his  melancholy  turn  of  writing,  his  constant 
answer  was,  that  though  thus  merry  and  full  of  laugh- 
ter, he  was,  at  heart,  one  of  the  most  miserable  wretches 
in  existence. 

4.  And  thus  he  writes:  “Why,  at  the  very  bight  of 
desire,  and  human  pleasure,  worldly,  amorous,  ambi- 
tious, or  even  avaricious,  does  there  mingle  a certain 
sense  of  doubt  and  sorrow,  a fear  of  what  is  to  come,  a 
doubt  of  what  is?  If  it  were  not  for  hope,  what  would 
the  future  be?  A hell!  As  for  the  past,  what  predomi- 
nates in  memory?  Hopes  baffled!  From  whatever 
place  we  commence,  we  know  where  it  must  all  end.  And 
yet  what  good  is  there  in  knowing  it?  It  does  not 
make  men  wiser  or  better.  If  I were  to  live  over  again, 
I do  not  know  what  I would  change  in  my  life,  unless  it 
were  for  not  to  have  lived  at  all.  All  history  and  ’’‘expe- 
rience teach  us,  that  good  and  evil  are  pretty  equally 
balanced  in  this  existence,  and  that  what  is  most  to  be 
desired,  is  an  easy  passage  out  of  it.  What  can  it  give  us 
but  years,  and  these  have  little  of  good  hut  their  ending."' 

5.  And  thus  Martyn  writes : “lam  happier  here  in 
this  remote  land,  where  I seldom  hear  what  happens  in 
the  world,  than  I was  in  England,  where  there  are  so 
many  calls  to  look  at  things  that  are  seen.  The  precious 
Word  is  now  my  only  study,  by  means  of  itranslations. 
Time  flows  on  with  great  rapidity.  It  seems  as  if  life 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


331 


would  all  be  gone  before  any  thing  is  done.  I some- 
times rejoice  that  I am  but  twenty-seven,  and  that, 
unless  God  should  ordain  it  otherwise,  I may  double  this 
number  in  constant  and  '•'successful  labor.  But  I shall 
not  cease  from  my  happiness,  and  scarcely  from  my 
labor,  by  passing  into  the  other  world.” 

6.  And  thus  they  make  their  records  at  anniversa- 
ries, when  the  mind  is  called  to  review  life  and  its 
labors.  Thus  Byron  writes,  “At  twelve  o’clock  I shall 
have  completed  thirty -three  years ! I go  to  my  bed  with 
a heaviness  of  heart  at  having  lived  so  long  and  to  so 
little  purpose.  ^ ^ It  is  now  three  minutes  past  twelve, 
and  I am  thirty-three  ! 

^ Alas,  my  friend,  the  years  pass  swiftly  hy.^ 

But  I do  not  regret  them  so  much  for  what  I have 
done,  as  for  what  I might  have  done.” 

7.  And  thus  Martyn : “I  like  to  find  myself  em- 
ployed usefully,  in  a way  I did  not  expect  or  foresee. 
The  coniing  year  is  to  be  a '•'perilous  one,  but  my  life  is 
of  little  consequence,  whether  I finish  the  Persian  New 
Testament  or  not.  I look  back  with  j)ity  on  myself, 
when  I attached  so  much  importance  to  my  life  and 
labors.  The  more  I see  of  my  own  works,  the  more  I 
am  ashamed  of  them,  for  coarseness  and  '•'clumsiness 
mar  all  the  works  of  man.  I am  sick  when  I look  at 
the  wisdom  of  man,  but  am  relieved  by  reflecting,  that 
we  have  a city  whose  builder  and  maker  is  God.  The 
least  of  Ms  works  is  refreshing.  A dried  leaf,  or  a straw, 
makes  me  feel  in  good  company^  and  complac  ency  and 
admiration  take  the  place  of  disgust.  What  a momen- 
tary ’•'duration  is  the  life  of  man  I ^ It  glides  along, 
rolling  onward  forever,’  may  be  affirmed  of  the  river; 
but  men  pass  away  as  soon  as  they  begin  to  exist. 
Well,  let  the  moments  pass  ! 

^ They  Tmft  us  sooner  o’er 
This  life’s  tempestuous  sea, 

Soon  we  shall  reach  the  blissful  shore  , 

Of  blest  eternity  1 ’ ” 


332 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


8.  Such  was  the  experience  of  those  who  in  youth 
completed  their  course.  The  poet  has  well  described 
his  own  '^'career: 

A wandering  mass  of  shapeless  flame, 

A pathless  comet  and  a curse, 

The  menace  of  the  '^universe; 

Still  rolling  on  with  innate  force, 

Without  a '^'sphere,  without  a course, 

A bright  '^'deformity  on  high. 

The  '^'monster  of  the  upper  sky  !” 

9.  In  holy  writ  we  read  of  those  who  are  “raging 
waves  of  the  sea,  foaming  out  their  own  shame ; wander- 
ing starSj  to  whom  is  reserved  the  blackness  of  darkness 
forever.”  The  lips  of  man  may  not  apply  these  '^terrific 
words  to  any  whose  doom  is  yet  to  be  disclosed ; but 
there  is  a passage  which  none  can  fear  to  apply.  “Those 
that  are  wise,  shall  shine  as  the  brightness  of  the  *tfirm- 
ament ; and  they  that  turn  many  to  righteousness,  as 
stars  forever  and  ever  ! ” 

Questions. — How  did  Byron  feel  when  he  was  enjoying  himself 
most  ? How  did  Martyn  feel  when  he  was  cut  off  from  most  of  the 
pleasures  that  Byron  was  seeking?  What  is  described  as  the  differ- 
ence of  their  feelings  at  their  birth  days?  What  poetic  description 
may  be  applied  to  Byron  ? 


LESSON  XCVIII.^/' 


1-  Entranced'';  v.  (pro.  en-transf) 

. charmed,  filled  with  rapture. 

2.  Whiles;  adv.  (put  for  whilst 

or  while.) 

3.  Me''-te-or;  n,  a luminous  body 

passing  through  the  air. 


3.  Gar''-land;  n.  a wreath  of 
flowers. 

6.  Mold^-er;  V.  to  decay. 

6.  Surge;  n.  a great  rolling  swell 
of  water.  (Here  used  figu- 
ratively.) 


BYRON. 

1 . He  touched  his  harp,  and  nation*  heard,  entranced. 
As  some  vast  river  of  unfailing  source, 

Eapid,  +exhaustless,  deep,  his  numbers  flowed, 

And  oped  new  ’^’fountains  in  the  human  heart. 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


333 


Where  faney  halted,  weary  in  her  flight, 

In  other  men,  his,  fresh  as  morning,  rose. 

And  soared  untrodden  hights,  and  seemed  at  homo, 
Where  angels  bashful  looked. 

2 Others,  though  great. 

Beneath  their  '^argument  seemed  '^'struggling  while 
He,  from  above  descending,  stooped  to  touch 
The  loftiest  thought ; and  proudly  stooped  as  though 
It  scarce  deserved  his  verse. 

3.  With  nature’s  self 

He  seemed  an  old  '^acquaintance,  free  to  jest 
At  will  with  all  her  glorious  *i^majesty. 

He  laid  his  hand  upon  the  “ ocean’s  mane,” 

And  played  familiar  with  his  hoary  locks  ; 

Stood  on  the  Alps,  stood  on  the  Apennines : 

And  with  the  thunder  talked,  as  friend  to  friend; 

And  wove  his  garland  of  the  lightning’s  wing. 

In  "^sportive  twist,  the  lightning’s  fiery  wing. 

Which,  as  the  footsteps  of  the  dreadful  G-od, 
Marching  upon  the  storm  in  ■^vengeance  seemed ; 
Then  turned,  and  with  the  grasshopper,  which  sung 
His  evening  song  beneath  his  feet,  conversed. 

Sun,  moon,  and  stars,  and  clouds  his  sisters  were ; 
Rocks,  mountains,  meteors,  seas,  and  winds,  and  storms. 
His  brothers,  younger  brothers,  whom  he  scarce 
As  equals  deemed. 

I As  some  fierce  comet  of  '^tremendous  size. 

To  which  the  stars  did  '^reverence  as  it  passed: 

So  he,  through  learning  and  tliroiigh  fancy,  took 
His  flight  ^sublime;  and  on  the  loftiest  top 
Of  fame’s  dread  mountain  sat;  not  soiled  and  won 
As  if  he  from  the  earth  had  labored  up: 

But  as  some  bird  of  '^'heavenly  '^'jDlumage  fair. 

He  looked,  which  down  from  higher  regions  came. 
And  perched  it  there,  to  see  what  lay  beneath. 

5 Great  man  ! the  nations  gazed  and  wondered  much 
And  praised:  and  many  called  his  evil  good; 


334 


NEW  FIFTH  READER. 


Wits  wrote  in  fiivor  of  his  wickedness, 

And  kings  to  do  him  honor  took  delight. 

Thus  full  of  titles,  ■’‘flattery,  honor,  fame; 

Beyond  desire,  beyond  ambition  full. 

He  died ; he  died  of  what  ? Of  ■’‘wretchedness. 
Drank  every  cup  of  joy,  heard  every  trump 
Of  fame:  drank  early,  deeply  drank;  drank  ‘’‘draughts 
That  common  millions  might  have  quenched,  then  died 
Of  thirst,  because  there  was  no  more  to  drink. 

His  goddess  nature,  wooed,  embraced,  enjoyed. 

Pell  from  his  arms  ‘’‘abhorred;  his  passion  died ; 

Died,  all  but  dreary,  solitary  pride  : 

And  all  his  ‘’'sympathies  in  being  died. 

6.  As  some  ill-guided  bark,  well  built  and  tall, 

Which  angry  tides  cast  on  our  desert  shore. 

And  then  retiring,  leave  it  there  to  rot 
And  molder  in  the  winds  and  rains  of  heaven , 

So  he,  cut  from  the  ‘’‘sympathies  of  life. 

And  cast  ashore  from  pleasure’s  boisterous  surge, 

A wandering,  weary,  worn,  and  wretched  thing. 
Scorched,  and  ‘’‘desolate,  and  blasted  soul, 

A gloomy  ‘’‘wilderness  of  dying  thought, 

Eepined,  and  groaned  and  withered  from  the  earth. 

Questions. — Who  was  Byron?  Why  is  he  compared  to  a comet? 
What  was  his  character?  Where  are  the  Alps?  Where  are  the 
Apennines?  What  is  meant  by  laying  his  hand  upon^the  “ocean’s 
mane?” 


LESSON  XCIX.f^ 


1.  Di-vin '-I-TY ; n,  divine  nature.  [ 3.  An^-ti-dote;  n.  that  which 
.3  Bane;  ri.  poison,  mischief.  1 counteracts  poison. 


IMMORTALITY  OF  THE  SOUL. 

Scene. — Cato,  alone,  sitting  in  a thoughtful  posture ; — in  his 
hand  Plato's  hook  on  the  immortality  of  the  soul ; a drawn 
sword  on  the  table  by  him* 

1.  Cato.  It  must  be  so.  Plato,  thou  reasonest  well  I 
Else  whence  this  pleasing  hope,  this  fond  desire, 


ECLECTIC  SERIES. 


335 


This  longing  after  ^immortality  ? 

Or  whence  this  secret  dread  and  inward  horror, 

Of  falling  into  nought  ? Why  shrinks  the  soul 
Back  on  herself,  and  startles  at  '^'destruction  ? 

’T  is  the  divinity  that  stirs  within  us  ! 

’Tis  heaven  itself  that  points  out  an  hereafter, 

And  intimates  '^'eternity  to  man. 

2.  Eternity,  thou  pleasing,  dreadful  thought  I 
. Through  what  '‘’variety  of  untried  being, 

.Through  what  new  scenes  and  changes  must  we  pass? 
The  wide  unbounded  prospect  lies  before  me : 

But  shadows,  clouds,  and  darkness  rest  upon  it. 

Here  will  I hold.  If  there’s  a Power  above  us, 

(And  that  there  is  all  Nature  cries  aloud 
Through  all  her  works)  he  must  delight  in  virtue ; 
And  that  which  he  delights  in  must  be  happy. 

But  when  ? or  where?  This  world  was  made  for  Caesar. 

B.  I’m  weary  of  '‘'conjectures — this  must  end  them. 

Thus  am  I doubly  armed:  my  death'^  and  life,t 
My  bane*  and'  antidotef  are  both  before  me. 

This*  in  a moment  brings  me  to  an  end  ; 

But  thisf  informs  me  I shall  never  die. 

L The  soul  secured  in  her  '‘'existence  smiles 
At  the  drawn  dagger,  and  defies  its  point. 

The  stars  shall  fade  away,  the  sun  himself 
Grow  dim  with  age,  and  Nature  sunk  in  years  ; 

But  thou  shalt  flourish  in  '‘'immortal  youth ; 

Unhurt  amid  the  war  of  elements. 

The  wreck  of  matter,  and  the  crush  of  worlds. 


* The  sword. 


tThe  bock. 


336 


EIFTU  READER. 


LESSON  C./ 


DEATH. 

1.  Welcome  Death. ! My  senses  swim, 
And  the  world  is  growing  dim : 
■^'Thronging  '^shadows  crowd  the  light. 
Like  the  ’‘'advent  of  the  night ; 

Colder,  colder,  colder  still. 

Upward  starts  a '‘'vapor  chill ; 

Strong  the  earthly  '‘'odor  grows ; 

I smell  the  '‘'mold  above  the  rose. 


LIFE. 

2.  Welcome  Life:  The  spirit  strives  ! 
Strength  returns,  and  hope  '‘'revives; 
Cloudy  fears  and  shapes  '‘'forlorn 
Fly  like  shadows  at  the.^iorn ; 

O’er  the  earth  there  com^s  a bloom; 
Sunny  light  for  sullen  gloom, 

^ Warm  ‘‘'perfume  for  vapor  col4^ 

I smell  the  rose  above  the 

HEAVEN. 

3.  Oh  spirit  freed  from  ‘‘'bondage 
Dejoice,  thy  work  is  done  ! 

The  weary  world  is  ’neath  thy  feet, 
Thou  brighter  than  the  sun ! 


it 


4.  Awake  and  breathe  the  living  air 
Of  our  ‘‘'celestial  ‘‘'clime  ! 

Awake  to  love  which  knows  no  change, 
Thou,  who  hast  done  with  time  ! 


5.  Awake ! ascend  I Thou  art  not  now 
With  those  of  mortal  birth: 

The  living  God  hath  touched  thy  lips, 
Thou  who  hast  done  with  earth  ! 


THE  END. 


